THE  LOST  SILVER  OF 
BRIFFAULT 

3t 
AMELIA  E'BARR 


The  Lost  Silver 
of  Briffault 

By 

AMELIA  E.  BARR 


New  York 

Dodd,  Mead  and  Company 
1898 


COPYRIGHT,  1885, 

BY 
PHILLIPS  &  HUNT,  N.  Y. 


PREFACE. 


epoch  selected  for  my  tale  is  generally  sup- 
posed  to  be  too  full  of  unhappy  memories  to 
become  the  vehicle  of  a  story.  I  do  not  think  so. 
I  know  that  it  abounded  in  deeds  of  heroic  self-de- 
nial, and  in  trials  bringing  forth  infinite  patience  and 
kindness.  Nor  can  I  have  given  offense  to  any,  for 
the  law  of  love  and  truth  has  guided  me.  Also, 
among  the  scenes  I  depict  I  spent  those  happy  years 
of  my  life  which  had  on  them  the  dew  of  youth  ;  and 
though  I  dwell  now  among  the  Highlands  of  the 
Hudson,  I  recall,  with  deep  affection,  the  beautiful 
land  far  off  by  the  sunny  Colorado.  And  thus, 

though  time  will  go,     ' 

"  I  mingle  yet 

The  bitter  and  the  sweet,  nor  quite  forget, 
Nor  quite  remember,  till  these  things  all  seem 
The  wavering  memory  of  a  lovely  dream." 

AMELIA  E.  BARE. 

FSS835 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  FREEDOM 7 

II.  LOVE  AND  MARRIAGE 42 

III.  THE  SOWING  OF  EVIL  SEED 72 

IV.  THE  TERROR  BY  NIGHT  AND  DAY 101 

V.  THE  RUNAWAY  BRIDE 133 

VI.  RAY'S  LEGACY 158 

VII.  THE  MAN  AT  THE  GATE 187 

VIII.  LIFE  AND  DEATH 223 

IX.  THE  PRODIGAL  DAUGHTER 247 

X.  THE  SECRET  OF  THE  PICTURE 280 

XI.  THE  FOUND  SILVER  . .  299 


THE 

LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 


CHAPTER  L    .-vs..:? 

FREEDOM. 

Let  us  hear  again 

The  freedmen  singing  under  Southern  noons ; 
Amid  the  cotton  and  the  sugar-cane, 
Or  teeming  rice-fields  by  the  hot  lagoons. 
Hear  in  the  cabins,  through  the  summer  night, 
The  cry  of  Freedom  !  bursting  unaware, 
And  setting  all  its  rapturous  delight 
To  sweet  accompaniments  of  song  and  prayer. 

"ITIDSUMMER  and  midday— a  day  so  hot  that 
-i'J-  the  crystal  air  trembled  and  quivered  and  glis- 
tened, as  if  it  were  a  veil  of  woven  silver ;  and  the 
white  house  of  the  Preston  ranch  seemed  to  shrink 
away  from  it  into  the  thick  shade  of  the  surrounding 
mulberry-trees ;  where  also  the  birds,  faint  and  silent, 
had  hid  themselves.  But  among  the  vines  of  the 
veranda,  the  grasshoppers,  with  their  goat-like  profiles, 
were  busily  running,  and  across  the  hot  sand  of  the 


8  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

yard  a  large  snake  lay  prone,  with  every  glittering  coil 
outstretched,  basking  in  the  fiercest  rays  of  the  sun. 

A  woman  stood  just  within  the  door,  a  beautiful 
woman,  with  a  complexion  of  that  warm  pallor  so 
rarely  seen  except  in  the  South.  Her  attitude  was 
listless  and  sorrowful,  and  her  eyes  were  fixed  upon 
the  brilliant  rejpfcile,  so  luxuriously  stretching  itself 
upon  the  fervid"  ground.  It  roused  in  her  neither 
i'eor,  hatred,  itor/anger ;  she  felt  no  desire  to  take  up 
Eve's  quarrel  against  the  creature.  "  Let  it  alone," 
she  said  to  the  Negro  servant,  who  was  going,  with 
an  eager  passion  of  hatred,  to  destroy  it.  Intoxicated 
with  sunshine,  it  was  unconscious  of  danger;  and  to 
dismiss  death,  and  say,  even  to  a  snake,  "  Live  a  little 
longer,"  seemed  to  Cassia  Preston  a  pleasant  thing  to 
do,  and  it  made  a  faint  ripple  in  the  somber  sameness 
of  her  thoughts. 

She  turned  and  went  toward  a  door  at  the  other 
end  of  the  wide  hall,  and  opened  it  softly.  It  showed 
her  a  room  in  deepest  shadow,  whose  atmosphere  was 
heavy  with  the  scent  of  dying  roses  and  the  sickly 
odor  of  valerian.  On  a  couch,  in  the  dimmest  corner, 
there  was  a  little  drift  of  white  muslin,  and  above  it 
the  thin,  yellow  face  of  a  woman,  apparently  asleep. 
But  she  stirred  as  Cassia  stood  looking  at  her,  and 

O  ' 

said,  querulously,  "  I  want  some  coffee,  and  tell  Mam- 
my to  come  and  rub  my  feet." 


FKEEDOM.  9 

"  Mother,  let  me  take  Mammy's  place.  I  do  not 
think  she  will  come." 

"  Not  come !  What  nonsense.  Send  her  here  im- 
mediately." 

Cassia  shut  the  door  and  sat  down  by  the  fretful 
woman.  "  I  can  keep  bad  news  from  you  no  longer, 
mother.  Mammy  is  her  own  mistress  now.  Our 
servants  are  free." 

"Free!  That  is  an  impossibility.  My  servants 
were  given  me  by  my  father.  I  have  the  papers. 
He  told  me  they  were  made  out  in  such  a  way  that 
no  one  could  take  them  from  me — no  one!  They 
are  mine  ;  mine  as  much  as  the  rings  on  my  fingers," 
and  she  held  out  her  thin  hands,  trembling  with 
emotion  and  glittering  with  gems. 

"  I  heard  they  were  free  nearly  a  month  ago.  I 
have  no  doubt  it  is  true.  All  of  Roseland's  and 
MacKersey's  hands  have  left.  Galveston  is  full  of 
runaway  Negroes ;  no  one  dares  to  touch  them,  or 
challenge  their  right.  The  fields  are  empty ;  you 
can't  hire  a  man  for  gold.  The  houses  are  empty ; 
in  many  there  is  not  even  an  old  woman  left  to  make 
a  biscuit." 

"  I  don't  believe  it !     Who  told  you  such  things  ? " 

"  Sheriff  Bowling.  He  called  this  morning  for  a 
little  breakfast.  He  sold  Chloe's  son,  you  remember, 
and  Chloe  would  not  cook  any  thing  for  him.  She 


10  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

said  she  had  hurt  her  hand  ;  but  would  she  have 
dared  to  make  an  excuse  a  month  ago  ?  He  told 
me  he  was  out  herding  his  own  cattle.  His  men 
have  all  gone.  Our  isolation  has  been  in  our  favor, 
but  a  man  called  here  three  days  ago,  and  even  Mam- 
my has  been  changed  since.  She  told  me  he  was 
going  to  Corpus  Christ!  to  look  for  his  wife,  Melinda, 
and  she  added,  in  a  very  significant  manner,  '  Thank 
God,  when  he  find  her  dis  time,  he  can  keep  her, 
till  black  Death  come  along  to  part  them.' ': 

"  If  you  heard  talk  like  this  a  month  ago,  Cassia, 
you  ought  to  have  prevented  the  servants  hearing  it." 

"  How  ? " 

"  You  should  have  suffered  none  of  them  to  leave 
the  place.  You  should  have  kept  every  stranger  off 
it.  I  would  have  watched  night  and  day.  Whatever 
are  our  soldiers  doing  ? " 

"  There  have  been  reverses — " 

"  Reverses !  There  are  always  reverses  in  war. 
Napoleon  had  them.  Washington  had  them.  Are 
we  to  set  our  slaves  free  for  reverses  ?  I  shall  hold 
mine  fast  until  the  reverses  are  on  the  other  side. 
What  good  will  there  be  in  the  final  victory  if  our 
property  is  all  scattered  far  and  wide,  and  we  can't 
find  it  again  ?  Keep  the  servants  together,  Cassia ; 
any  day,  to-morrow  even,  may  bring  us  better 


FREEDOM.  11 

"  Better  news  will  never  come.  The  war  is  over. 
We  have  lost  all,  mother." 

"  How  can  you  say  such  cruel  things,  Cassia  ?  It 
wouldn't  be  just.  See  what  I  have  sacrificed  !  Your 
father  killed ;  your  brother  away  fighting  four  years ; 
very  likely  he  is  killed,  too ;  we  haven't  heard  from 
him  since  April ;  think  of  all  my  sufferings !  And 
then  to  lose  every  thing  !  No,  it  wouldn't  be  just  or 
right.  I  will  not  hear  it !  " 

"Don't  cry,  now,  dear  mother.  There  is  no  help 
for  us  in  tears,  and  I  do  want  your  advice.  The  men 
are  ugly  and  lazy  ;  instead  of  going  to  the  fields  they 
are  hanging  about  the  cabins.  The  women  are  just 
the  same.  I  asked  Celia  this  morning  about  the 
washing,  and  she  said  she  did  not  feel  like  it.  She 
said  the  same  last  week.  Every  meal  is  cooked 
more  and  more  slovenly  and  irregularly.  There 
is  a  feeling  about  the  place  to-day  that  frightens 
me.  I  do  believe  it  is  the  right  thing  to  call  the 
servants  together  and  tell  them  they  are  free.  Then 
I  could  get  rid  of  all  who  refuse  to  work.  Per- 
haps Mammy  and  Chloe  will  stay  if  we  give  them 
good  wages." 

"  Give  them  wages  ?  I  wont  do  it !  I'll  die  first ! 
Pay  my  own  slaves  to  work  for  me  ?  I  wont  do  it  1 
I  wont  do  it !  They  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  them- 
selves— " 


12  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BBIFFAULT. 

Cassia's  face  darkened.     "Let   us   be  reasonable, 
mother  ;  why  should  they  be  ashamed  ? " 

"  Born  in  the  family — after  all  we  have  done  for 
them,"  she  sobbed. 

"  Perhaps  they  think  they  could  have  done  better 
for  themselves." 

"  Are  you  turning  against  me,  too  ?  O,  Cassia,  I 
never  thought — " 

"  Come,  mother,  try  and  face  the  inevitable." 

"  To  behave  so  badly — Mammy,  too.  It  will  kill 
me—" 

Cassia  walked  to  the  window  and  stood  a  moment 
despairingly  before  the  closed  blinds ;  but,  as  her 
mother's  sobs  grew  louder,  she  went  back  and  soothed 
and  kissed  the  petted,  ailing  woman  into  a  calmer 
mood. 

Then  she  sought  her  own  room,  ostensibly  for  her 
siesta,  but  she  was  far  too  anxious  and  restless  to 
sleep.  Nature  had  not  only  endowed  her  with  beauty, 
she  had  given  her  also  a  clear  mind  and  a  moral 
bias  that  was,  above  all  other  things,  upright ;  so  that 
her  duty,  and  the  sense  of  its  immediate  necessity, 
weighed  heavily  on  her. 

She  frankly  admitted  to  herself  that  the  servants 
had  shown  a  remarkable  patience  and  restraint.  Ru- 
mors of  their  approaching  freedom  had  been  in  the 
air  for  months.  For  three  weeks  they  had  believed  in 


FREEDOM.  13 

its  reality  ;  for  three  days  they  had  been  sure  of  the 
stupendous  and  glorious  change  in  their  condition. 
"  It  is  no  wonder  they  despise  mother  and  I,"  she 
thought.  "  When  the  news  first  came  we  ought  to 
have  called  them  together  and  told  them,  and,  as  far 
as  it  was  natural  and  possible,  have  rejoiced  with  them. 
Then  we  could  have  asked  them  to  remain  with  us 
until  John  came  home  and  agreed  with  them  about 
their  wages.  But  instead  of  that  we  have  taken 
their  labor  as  our  right.  I  must  do  now  what  I 
know  John  would  have  done  long  ago  if  he  had  been 
here." 

But  good  is  only  half  good  when  it  is  past  season. 
She  felt,  when  she  went  down  stairs,  that  her  resolve 
had  come  too  late.  Already  there  were  changes  in 
progress,  and  delay  had  robbed  duty  of  every  grace. 
She  wandered  restlessly  about  the  house  and  garden 
until  night-fall  had  brought  all  the  servants  into  the 
kitchen  and  cabins ;  then  she  asked  Uncle  Isaac  to 
gather  them  together.  He  was  a  very  old  man  ;  he 
had  been  her  great-grandfather's  servant.  She 
thought  if  any  love  or  gratitude  could  be  depended 
upon  it  was  surely  his. 

Very  reluctantly,  and  only  after  bitter  weeping, 
Mrs.  Preston  had  consented  to  have  the  tie  broken  in 
her  presence.  Cassia  was  certain  it  ought  to  be  so ; 
she  wished  it  to  be  done  as  gently  as  possible,  and 


14:  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

she  wished  them  to  carry  away  into  new  lives  a  kindly 
memory  of  the  old  one.  It  was  a  most  impressive 
gathering.  Fifty  men  and  women,  of  all  ages  and 
all  shades  of  color,  were  there,  some  with  wool  like 
snow,  others  in  the  strength  of  their  prime  and  the 
beauty  of  their  youth.  Mrs.  Preston  covered  her  face 
and  sobbed.  Cassia,  standing  at  her  mother's  side? 
said : 

"  Uncle  Isaac,  you  served  my  great  grandfather  ? " 

"  Dat  so,  Miss  Cassia.  He  was  my  fust  master ; 
bought  me  from  de  slave-ship  Lijafi  Hoole  eighty-two 
years  ago." 

"  And  you  served  my  grandfather,  also  ?  " 

"  Ebery  day  ob  his  life — bery  good  master  he  was.' 

"  And  my  father  ? " 

"  De  last  t'ing  de  colonel  do,  'fore  he  go  to  de  war, 
was  to  shake  hands  wid  me.  I  hold  de  stirrup  fur 
him.  Mighty  good  man  de  colonel !  And  I  nurse 
Mass'  John,  too,  in  dese  arms — make  his  fust  fishin'- 
rod  fur  him.  Four  generations  of  de  Prestons  I  hab 
served,  faithful,  Miss  Cassia." 

"  Isaac,  you  are  free  now.  You  need  serve  none  of 
us  any  longer.  Mammy,  Chloe,  Jeff,  Scip,  all  of  you 
even  to  little  Coralie  in  her  cradle,  are  free.  You 
can  all  leave  us  to-morrow  if  you  wish.  You  need 
never  do  any  thing  for  us  again.  Some  of  you 
played  with  father  and  mother ;  some  of  you  played 


FREEDOM.  15 

with  Master  John  and  me.  You  have  been  very  true 
to  us.  I  never  heard  of  any  of  you,  man  or  woman, 
saying  a  word  against  the  Prestons.  You  have  also 
been  very  kind  to  us,  very  patient  with  us,  and  God 
knows  we  have  tried  to  be  very  kind  and  patient  with 
you.  "We  have  been  one  family.  It  is  hard  to  part 
—to  say  <  Good-lye:  " 

It  was  impossible  for  her  to  continue.  Most  of 
the  men  and  women  were  sobbing  with  all  the  passion- 
ate abandon  of  their  childlike  natures ;  Mammy  had 
knelt  down  by  Mrs.  Preston's  side,  and  was  chafing 
and  kissing  her  hands,  and  vowing  "  ueber,  neber,  to 
leave  her."  Cassia  stood  among  them,  white  and 
sorrowful,  slow,  large  tears  falling  unconsciously  from 
her  eyes.  At  length  Uncle  Isaac  said  :  "  What  does 
de  madam  and  Miss  Cassia  want  us  to  do  ? " 

He  had  slowly  stepped  forward,  and  stood  in  his 
tottering  age  close  by  his  mistress's  side.  She 
stretched  out  her  white,  gemmed  hand  to  him,  and 
he  touched  it  and  bowed  his  snowy  head  over  it  with 
a  native  chivalry  no  art  could  have  imitated. 

Cassia  answered  for  her  mother.  "  Uncle  Isaac, 
we  would  like  all  of  you  to  remain  on  the  place,  at 
your  usual  work,  until  Master  John  returns.  He 
cannot  be  long  now.  You  know  what  Master  John 
is  ;  he  will  pay  you  the  last  dime  of  your  right,  if  he 
sells  the  land  to  do  it.  Whatever  others  are  getting 


16  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

you  shall  have.  I  promise  for  him.  We  will  deal 
kindly  and  honestly  by  you." 

Isaac  turned  and  looked  at  the  people.  There  was 
a  slight  hesitation  ;  then  Jeff,  who  was  overseer,  said  : 
"Miss  Cassia  hab  done  make  us  a  fair  offer.  I'se 
gwine  to  take  it.  I  kin  trust  Mass'  John  and  all  de 
Prestons,  I  kin." 

This  was  the  universal  sentiment,  and  Cassia,  with 
a  sense  of  great  relief,  accepted  their  service  under 
its  new  condition.  She  was  too  truthful  to  affect 
personal  sympathy  with  this  condition,  but  yet  she 
could  understand  the  light  and  triumph  in  every 
face,  the  sudden  and  quite  unconscious  uplifting  of 
every  head,  and  into  her  heart  there  came  a  kindly 
thought. 

"Here  are  the  keys  of  the  storeroom,  Chloe ;  I 
am  sure  you  would  like  to  make  an  extra  supper  for 
all  to-night." 

"Thank'ee,  madam,  thank'ee  Miss  Cassia,"  came 
from  every  lip,  and  then,  with  even  more  than  their 
usual  deference,  they  left  the  room  and  went  back 
to  their  quarters.  Cassia  walked  to  a  side  window 
and  wratched  them,  for  as  soon  as  they  were  outside 
the  house  they  gave  way  to  the  deep  joy  in  their 
hearts.  Some  of  the  women  fell  weeping  on  their 
husband's  necks.  A  gigantic  negress  lifted  her  baby 
high  above  her  head,  telling  it  over  and  over,  in 


FREEDOM.  1 7 

constantly  louder  and  shriller  tones :  "  You'se  f  ivi\ 
Taniar !  Yon'se  free,  Taraar!  Free!  free!  free!" 
The  young  drew  together  in  little  ebony  squads 
around  the  white  cabins ;  the  elder  ones  gathered  in 
Chloe's  big  kitchen.  After  the  first  few  moments 
of  rapture  it  was  not  all  joy  to  them.  There  were 
wives  and  fathers  and  mothers  who  could  not  help 
feeling  that  freedom  had  come  too  late  for  their  hap- 
piness. Their  loved  ones  had  been  sold  away,  and 
they  knew  not  where  to  find  them.  So  they  sat 
smoking  and  talking,  almost  sadly,  in  the  big  kitchen  ; 
while  Chloe,  and  some  of  the  women,  killed  and  fried 
chickens,  boiled  the  ripe  young  ears  of  corn,  and 
made  the  johnny-cake  and  coffee.  Gladly  they 
brought  out  their  hoarded  pieces  of  fine  linen  or 
china,  and  the  younger  girls  laid  the  tables  for  their 
first  freedom  supper. 

That  night  Chloe's  kitchen  was  a  wonderful  place. 
The  cedar  logs  blazed  and  danced  in  the  chimney, 
and  threw  great  luster  across  the  tables,  and  the 
shifting  groups  of  women,  with  their  gay  turbans 
and  glinting  ear-rings ;  across  the  more  somber 
groups  of  talking  men,  with  their  glowing  corn-cob 
pipes  and  gleaming  eyes  and  light  blue  hickory 
dress.  Uncle  Isaac  had  gone  to  his  cabin  to  rest  un- 
til supper  was  ready,  and  it  was  nearly  ten  o'clock 

when  Cassia  saw  him,  leaning  upon  Jeff  and  Scip, 
2 


18  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

slowly  totter  across  the  yard,  in  order  to  take  his 
place  as  master  of  the  feast. 

She  was  in  her  mother's  room,  a  large,  lofty  apart- 
ment, with  galleries  on  three  sides.  Mrs.  Preston  was 
f  asleep.  She  had  wept  herself  to  sleep,  as  children  do. 
It  had  been  a  hard  few  hours  to  her,  all  the  more 
hard  because  Mammy  had  not  come  to  rub  her  feet, 
and  do  the  numberless  little  things  which  had  become 
so  necessary  to  her  comfort.  She  would  not  suffer 
Cassia  to  take  her  place.  She  could  not  understand 
why  Mammy  should  have  neglected  her,  especially 
on  such  an  occasion. 

"Now,  when  she  is  going  to  have  so  much — when 
she  knew  how  hard  it  would  be  for  me — I  have  no 
doubt,  Cassia,  she  is  talking  to  Harriet  and  Chloe, 
and  telling  them  all  kinds  of  things  about  me." 

Poor  Mammy  !  she  was  locked  in  her  own  cabin. 
She  was  down  on  her  knees,  telling  God,  God  only, 
how  hard  her  duty  was.  Telling  him  again  about 
the  three  sons  and  the  one  young  pretty  daughter 
that  were — she  knew  not  where.  Asking  him  to 
send  from  among  his  legions  of  angels  just  one — one 
of  the  humblest — with  a  message  from  her  heart  to 
theirs.  "  Dey  kin  come  back  to  me  now,  Lord,"  she 
pleaded ;  "  gib  dem  de  heart  to  do  it,  and  show  'em 
de  way." 

Her  children  had  been  her  first  thought.     She  had 


FREEDOM.  19 

quite  forgot  madam  until  just  before  Cassia  saw 
Uncle  Isaac  go  to  the  kitchen  with  Jeff  and  Scip ; 
yet  she  had  fully  intended  to  do  her  usual  duties, 
and  when  she  rose  from  her  knees  and  remembered 
them,  her  heart  reproached  her,  and  she  went  quickly 
to  madam's  room.  Cassia  met  her  at  the  door.  Her 
sad,  anxious  face  troubled  Mammy. 

"  I  clean  forgot,  Miss  Cassia.  I  did,  sure.  I  wont 
do  so  any  more." 

"  She  missed  you  very  much,  Mammy." 
"  I'se  mighty  sorry.     I'll  stay  wid  her  now." 
u  No,  no  ;  I  will  remain  to-night.     Go  and  be  glad 
with  the  rest,  Mammy.     You  ought  to  be." 

Yet  though  she  had  told  Mammy  to  go,  she 
watched  her  across  the  yard  with  a  feeling  of  deser- 
tion. All  the  foundations  of  her  life  were  shaken, 
and  what  was  to  come  next  she  could  not  even  imag- 
ine. Though  her  mother  slept  heavily,  she  found  it 
impossible  to  rest.  As  the  moon  rose  high  the  breeze 
from  the  gulf  came  with  it.  She  pushed  aside  the 
tangle  of  the  jasmine,  and  leaned  over  the  gallery 
to  catch  the  cool  freshness,  as  it  fluttered  the  long 
streamers  of  gray  moss,  and  talked  soughfully  with 
the  vast  pecans  and  thick  mulberries. 

She  could  hear  down  in  the  cabins  the  confn.^d 
noise  of  a  tumult  that  was  altogether  joyful ;  broken 
laughter,  little  cries,  the  echo  of  conversation,  the 


20  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BEIFFAULT. 

movement  of  feet,  the  rattle  of  dishes.  She  tried  to 
put  herself  in  the  place  of  those  holding  such  glad 
festival,  and  to  feel  something  of  their  wonder  and 
their  gratitude.  But  it  was  impossible  for  her,  all  at 
once,  to  grasp  the  feelings  and  thoughts  which  beat 
against  her  consciousness,  like  waves  against  the 
shore,  leaving  only  a  drift  of  things  behind  them. 
With  dropped  hands,  and  a  soul  weary  and  heavy 
with  emotion,  she  sat  listening.  Perhaps  she  fell 
asleep,  for  when  she  moved  it  was  with  a  start,  and 
the  midnight  hour  was  softly  striking  on  her  mothers 
little  Swiss  clock.  The  wind  had  ceased,  and  the  hot, 
still  air  was  full  of  low  whispers  of  song  that  swelled 
gradually  into  a  burst  of  triumphant  melody.  She 
could  not  resist  it. 

"  This  tiling  can  never,  never,  never  happen  again 
while  the  world  lasts !  I  will  at  least  be  a  witness  to 
the  joy  of  it."  With  this  thought  she  went  to  an 
open  window  which  overlooked  the  yard.  Uncle 
Isaac  sat  in  the  full  moonlight ;  the  rest  of  the  liber- 
ated servants  were  on  the  ground  around  him,  or 
upon  the  door-steps  of  the  nearest  cabins.  But  Scip 
stood  by  his  side,  and  it  was  his  voice,  in  a  low,  in- 
tense, whispering  song,  that  had  first  startled  her : 

"  Go  down,  Moses, 
Go  down,  Moses, 
Go  down  Moses, 


FREEDOM.  21 

Go  down  into  Egypt, 
And  tell  King  Pharaoh 
To  let  my  people  go  1 " 

With  every  line  the  man's  soul  gathered  a  passion 
of  feeling  that  no  words  can  translate ;  and  at  the 
last  one  every  voice  joined  in  a  chorus  of  the  same 
gradual  gathering  of  sound  and  feeling : 

"  Let  ray  people  go  ! 
Let  my  people  go  I 
Let  my  people  go !  " 

The  majority  of  Kegroes  are  fine  improvisers,  and 
in  the  same  manner  Scip  went  over  the  whole  story 
of  the  liberation  of  Israel  in  Egypt.  He  was  black  as 
ebony,  but  as  he  stood  there,  in  his  grand  massive 
manhood,  and  stretching  out  his  bare  arm,  began : 

44  Stretch  out  de  rod, 
Stretch  it  ober  de  river," 

Cassia    was   troubled,   and    her  heart  was  full  of  a 
sympathy  that  she  would  not  try  to  analyze. 

"  Moses  shout  and  Miriam  sing  I  " 

Then  Scip's  sister,  Hannah,  and  his  wife  Sadie, 
chanted  the  verses  with  him.  till  he  gave  the  key-line 
to  the  last  jubilant  chorus : 

"  Hallel  ujah,  Moses !     Hallelujah ! 
Pass  ober  de  Red  Sea  ! 
Pass  ober  de  Red  Sea ! 
Pass  ober  de  Red  Sea !  " 


22  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

In  the  bright  moonlight  the  scene  had  a  weird  and 
mystical  grandeur,  and  though  the  meeting  did  not 
quite  break  up  until  the  pathos  of  'the  setting  moon 
was  over  it,  and  the  gray  dawn  creeping  up  the 
eastern  slope,  Cassia  lingered  at  the  window,  watch- 
ing and  listening  until  the  last  half-dozen  went  slowly 
to  their  separate  cabins,  singing  softly : 

"  0  Peter,  go  ring  dem  bells ! 
Peter,  go  ring  dem  bells  1 
Peter,  go  ring  dem  bells  ! 
I  heard  from  heabeu  to-day ! 

My  Lord,  what  a  morning  1 

My  Lord,  what  a  morning! 

My  Lord,  what  a  morning !  " 

It  is  one  of  the  saddest  conditions  of  humanity  that 
it  cannot  carry  its  loftiest  enthusiasms  into  its  daily 
work ;  nay,  that  they  very  often  make  daily  work  a 
hard  and  dreary  thing.  The  feeling  in  the  Preston 
household  when  the  sun  rose,  and  another  day  was  to 
begin,  was  one  of  lassitude  and  even  crossness. 
Usually  Mammy  brought  madam  and  Cassia  a  cup 
of  strong  coffee  to  their  rooms  about  six  o'clock ;  but 
it  was  long  after  seven  when  she  appeared,  and 
madam  had  become  irritable  and  tearful,  for  want  of 
her  usual  stimulant.  An  ordinary  servant  might 
have  been  reproved  for  negligence;  but  the  re- 
lation between  mistress  and  liberated  slave  was  as 


FREEDOM.  23 

yet  extraordinary  and  undetermined.  Madam  was 
silent  and  injured ;  Mammy  resented  the  attitude  as 
unsympathetic  and  exacting. 

As  for  Cassia,  she  had  a  most  unhappy  day.  She 
saw  that,  at  noon,  the  cows  were  still  in  the  pens 
unmilked ;  and  the  breakfast  cooking  in  the  cabins. 
The  men  were  lounging  about  the  kitchen,  the 
women  visiting  each  other  and  quite  neglectful  of 
their  regular  duties.  Nor  was  this  state  of  affairs  to 
be  wondered  at.  With  the  average  intellect  of  chil- 
dren, they  had  also  their  ready  propensity  to  make  a 
holiday.  And  no  one  could  deny  that  their  circum- 
stances excused  the  holiday  feeling.  It  was  per- 
fectly natural  that  the  first  meaning  of  freedom  to 
them,  should  be  a  condition  of  freedom  from  labor. 

They  were  weary,  also,  with  the  excitement  of  the 
night,  and  to  a  majority  of  them  had  come,  for  the 
first  time  in  their  lives,  a  care  and  an  anxiety  about 
the  future.  Chloe's  remark,  as  she  fried  the  rice 
cakes  for  breakfast :  "  I'se  not  gwine  to  stay  here. 
Tse  neber  feel  free  on  dis  place, "  had  only  voiced 
the  feeling  dominant  in  most  hearts.  To  dare  to 
leave  the  place !  To  dare  to  take  all  their  belong- 
ings with  them,  and  go  into  the  nearest  town,  and 
find  a  home  for  themselves !  This  was  the  general 
ambitious  desire ;  and  yet  they  knew  so  little  of  the 
world ;  they  had  such  an  exaggerated  idea  of  its 


24:  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

dangers,  and  were  so  thoroughly  under  their  heredi- 
tary fear  of  the  dominant  race,  that  the  undertaking 
was  a  momentous  one,  full  of  real  anxieties,  and  of 
many  shadowy  dangers. 

For  three  days  Cassia  bore,  with  admirable  patience, 
the  hourly  provocations  of  her  position.  Then  it  be- 
came clear  to  her  that  the  men  had  no  intention  of 
working  the  farm.  They  were  simply  idling  around, 
waiting  for  something  to  turn  up.  They  had  many 
hopes  of  houses  and  lands  of  their  own ;  they  had 
been  told  that  when  the  victorious  army  entered 
Texas  with  the  provisional  government,  something 
extraordinary  would  be  done  for  them.  They  were 
simple  as  children,  and  they  believed  that,  at  the  very 
least,  the  property  of  their  old  masters  would  be 
divided  among  them ;  and  most  had  fully  deter- 
mined in  their  own  minds  what  particular  portion 
should  be  their  own. 

"  I  was  born'd  on  de  place,  and  I'se  got  a  right  to 
some  of  it,"  said  Mammy  to  Chloe  ;  "  if  dey'll  gib  me 
de  down  stairs  and  de  cows  and  de  chickens,  I  kin 
git  along  fust  rate ;  and  I'se  not  gwine  to  hab  de 
madam  'sturbed  at  all ;  she's  welcome  as  sunshine  to 
her  ole  room." 

"I'se  gwine  to  La  Salle,  sister  Cirida,"  answered 
Chloe ;  "  I'se  got  folks  dar,  and  I'se  sick  of  dis  place. 
I  don't  feel  free  wid  Miss  Cassia's  voice  in  my  ear, 


FREEDOM.  25 

and  dat  weary  tinkle,  tinkle  of  de  madam's  little 
bell.  I  jist  hates  it.  1'se  gwine  to  La  Salle  ;  plenty 
of  big  Louses  roun'  dar,  and,  please  God,  I'll  git  my 
share  in  some  ob  dem." 

There  was  no  general  noisy  leave-taking,  but  one 
by  one  the  servants  stole  away,  usually  in  the  night. 
And  every  day  there  was  some  change  in  their  man- 
ner, which  pained  and  angered  Cassia.  A  certain 
latitude  of  speech  had  always  been  permitted  them, 
as  well  as  a  familiarity  which  had  its  rise  in  the 
family  character  of  the  tie,  as  it  had  existed ;  but 
when  they  became  simply  "  hired  servants,"  this  fa- 
miliarity, intensified  by  their  ignorant  conception  of 
the  rights  freedom  gave  them,  was  an  offense. 

One  hot  afternoon,  as  Cassia  lay  languidly  fanning 
herself  under  the  mosquito  netting,  Mammy  entered 
hurriedly.  "  Miss  Cassia,"  she  said,  "  Uncle  Isaac's 
granddaughter  has  done  come  fur  him.  She  says  de 
ole  man's  all  de  kinfolks  she's  got,  and  she's  boun'  to 
hav'  him." 

"  O,  Isaac  is  going,  too,  is  he  ?     Yery  well." 
"  He'd  like  fur  to  see  you,  Miss  Cassia,  'fore  he  goes 
'way." 

"  I  don't  suppose  he  really  cares ;  but  I  can  come." 

She  spoke  coldly  and  rose  with  reluctance.     The 

old  man  stood  beside  a  little  ox  wagon,  into  which  all 

his  earthly  goods  had  already  been  packed.     A  mid- 


26  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

die-aged  mulatto  woman  was  standing  beside  it.  Her 
face  was  not  at  all  pleasant  or  conciliating,  but 
through  sheer  force  of  habit,  and  quite  in  despite  of 
her  inclination,  she  dropped  Cassia  a  courtesy.  Isaac 
extended  his  bony  wrinkled  hand,  and  said,  "  Good- 
bye, missee!  De  Lord  bless  you  ebermore.  I'se 
been  in  de  fambly  eighty-two  years !  Pretty  hard  to 
go  'way  from  it,  now." 

"  Don't  go,  uncle.  You  have  your  cabin,  and  are 
as  welcome  now,  as  ever,  to  all  you  need." 

"  Judy  wants  me.  I'm  an  ole  man.  I  'tended  to 
go  to  heaben  from  de  little  cabin  I  love ;  but 
freedom  done  bring  in  changes,  many  changes,  Miss 
Cassia.  I  was  born'd  free,  and  now  I  shall  die  free, 
bless  de  Lord !  I  asked  him  for  dis  ting — tire  him 
out,  askiii'  fur  it — and  now  I'se  kind  ob  sorry 
'bout  it." 

"Sorry  to  die  free?" 

"  Yes,  I'se  so  ole,  I  kind  ob  sorry  'bout  it.  When 
my  son,  Jake,  die — that  was  'fore  you  born'd,  Miss 
Cassia — he  talk  heap  'bout  de  angels  comin'  down  to 
de  riber-side  to  set  him  free ;  said  dey  comfort  him 
so,  spoke  sich  kind  words  to  him.  Mighty  fine 
ting  to  be  set  free  by  de  angels,  and  de  heabenly 
trumpets  all  a-blowin',  and  de  hosts  of  de  Lord 
a-shoutin' ! " 

The  old  slave  spoke  out  of  the  fullness  of  a  heart 


FREEDOM.  27 

set  to  the  idea  of  freedom.  He  had  no  intention  of 
wounding  Cassia,  no  thought  of  petty  triumph  in 
his  remark ;  but  she  winced  under  it,  and  asked,  ab- 
ruptly, if  he  wished  to  see  the  madam. 

"Come,  gran'pa,  we'se  got  no  time  fur  to  fool 
roun' — eleven  miles  to  go  'fore  sunset." 

The  tone  admitted  of  no  dispute,  and  Isaac,  like 
a  chidden  child,  answered : 

"  Fse  got  to  go,  Miss  Cassia.  Come  on  me  kind  ob 
Imrried-like.  Tell  de  madam  I  leave  my  'spects 
ebermore  to  her." 

Tears  were  in  his  eyes  for  one  moment ;  the  next 
his  wrinkled  face  beamed  with  all  the  interest  and 
delight  of  a  boy  going  on  a  pleasure  journey. 

And  how  could  Cassia  feel  glad  with  him,  when 
her  own  heart  and  home  were  being  left  desolate,  and 
she  was  full  of  care  and  sorrow  ?  She  went  back  to 
her  room  indignant.  She  did  really  feel  as  if  the 
servants  had  been  ungrateful  and  treacherous.  They 
had  lived  wastefully  on  the  small  stock  of  provisions 
left ;  they  had  shared  them,  also,  with  every  passing 
freedman  or  woman  ;  and  yet  they  had  not,  in  any 
single  instance,  fulfilled  the  promises  they  had  made 
her.  Even  Mammy  was  changed ;  she  was  moody 
and  restless,  and  spent  most  of  her  time  at  the  gates, 
chatting  with  Negroes  moving  into  the  towns. 

One  morning  Cassia  woke  up  with  a  blind,  beating, 


28  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

nervous  headache.  The  sun  was  pouring  into  the 
room,  the  shades  were  undrawn,  the  flies  excessively 
tormenting.  For  a  few  minutes  her  physical  suffer- 
ing was  the  only  fact  very  clear  to  her,  but  suddenly 
an  idea  struck  her  with  the  invincible  force  of  a  pre- 
sentiment— Mammy!  She  must  have  gone,  too! 
She  dressed  hastily  and  went  to  her  mother's  room. 
Mrs.  Preston  was  almost  hysterical.  It  was  nearly 
eight  o'clock,  and  no  one  had  been  near  her.  She 
was  as  distressed  as  a  neglected  babe.  As  Cassia  went 

O 

to  the  kitchen  she  looked  into  Mammy's  cabin.  It 
was  as  empty  as  all  the  others.  A  bare  floor,  four 
bare  walls,  the  floor  swept  clean,  the  door  shut  forever 
to  the  feet  that  had  worn  away  the  wooden  step  in 
front  of  it. 

The  fire  had  been  lit  in  the  kitchen,  the  kettle  placed 
beside  it,  and  the  coffee  ground  ready  for  the  morn- 
ing's first  draught.  But  Cassia  sat  down  on  the  raw- 
hide chair,  which  had  been  Chloe's  throne,  and  felt  ut- 
terly unable  to  grasp  the  situation.  So  many  things 
were  necessary  which  she  had  never  done  in  her  life. 
Cool  water  was  the  first,  but  the  well  was  very  deep, 
and  the  bucket  and  iron  chain  the  only  means  of 
reaching  it.  It  hurt  her  hands  to  pull  it,  even  a 
quarter  full ;  and  there  was  bread  to  bake,  and  no 
wood  cut  to  bake  it  with. 

And  O,  how  lonely  and  still  were  the  once  noisy 


FREEDOM.  29 

quarters  !  Only  a  few  weeks  ago  and  the  six  o'clock 
cup  of  coffee  and  the  plentiful  breakfast  at  nine 
o'clock  had  seemed  institutions  as  certain  and  regular 
as  day-break.  Very  often,  in  the  early  morning,  she 
had  been  used  to  walk  round  by  the  kitchen  and  look 
in  at  Chloe's  domain.  What  a  chattering  hubbub 
there  had  always  been  there  !  What  a  pleasant  aroma 
of  baking  corn  and  wheat,  of  frying  chicken  or  broil- 
ing steak  !  She  fancied  she  could  see  Fanny  and 
Melissa  running  between  the  house  and  the  kitchen 
with  the  food  and  dishes,  could  see  Mammy  care- 
fully arranging  her  mother's  special  tray,  could  see 
the  children  playing  about  the  yard,  and  Celia,  the 
laundress,  washing  in  the  shade  of  the  mulberry -trees, 
and  singing,  clear  and  sweet,  above  all  other  noises. 

To  such  thoughts  she  watched  the  coffee  boil,  and 
then  she  took  her  mother  the  much-needed  refresh- 
ment. There  was  no  necessity  to  tell  her  what  had 
happened.  She  understood  it  when  Cassia  brought 
in  the  tray. 

"  Such  ingratitude  ! "  she  moaned.  "  Mammy  al- 
ways had  the  finest  dresses,  the  best  room,  the  most 
time,  the  least  to  do,  of  any  servant  round  here.  1 
don't  see  how  she  could  be  so  cruel — " 

"  Mother  dear,  there  is  no  use  now  in  complaining. 
We  are  alone,  and  we  are  in  danger.  Parties  of 
freedmen  are  constantly  passing.  They  all  stop. 


30  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

While  Mammy  was  here  they  considered  she  had  a 
claim  on  the  place,  and  respected  it  ;  but  if  they  find 
out  we  are  alone,  you  know  what  may  happen — you 
know  what  has  happened — and  we  have  not  heard  the 
half.  What  is  to  be  done  ? " 

"  O,  if  John  would  come !  It  is  so  cruel,  so 
thoughtless.  He  must  know — " 

"  If  John  is  alive  he  is  coming  as  fast  as  a  mortal 
man  can  come.  But  he  is  not  here,  and  we  must  de- 
cide at  once." 

"  Lock  the  doors." 

"  Then  they  will  think  the  place  deserted,  and 
break  into  it.  We  should  be  at  their  mercy." 

"  But  they  will  not  dare  to  injure  us  1  We  are  so 
near  town — so  well  known.  They  would  be  found 
out  and  arrested  at  once." 

"  There  are  no  officers,  and  there  is  no  law.  The 
Confederate  government  is  dead  ;  no  other  has  taken 
its  place  yet.  The  last  time  I  went  to  town  I  was 
terrified  at  the  faces  I  saw.  The  streets  were  full  of 
silent,  somber,  waiting  Negroes,  and  at  every  corner 
groups  of  white  men  were  sitting,  stern  and  watchful. 
The  Negroes  far  outnumber  the  whites ;  the  towns 
must  be  protected,  the  farms  mast  protect  them- 
selves." 

"  What  must  we  do,  then  ?  " 

"  I  thought  of  riding  over  to  Briffault's.     I  heard 


FREEDOM.  31 

Mammy  telling  some  passing  Negroes  that  the  cap- 
tain had  got  back,  and  that  none  of  their  '  hands  '  had 
dared  to  leave  the  place.  Perhaps  they  will  be  able 
to  help  us,  or,  at  any  rate,  to  tell  us  what  it  is  best 
to  do." 

"  We  have  never  been  friends  with  the  Briffaults. 
I  don't  think  you  ought  to  go  there,  Cassia.  The 
house  always  had  a  dreadful  name.  I  have  heard  it 
said  that  it  is  unlucky  to  enter  those  big  iron  gates 
— that  no  one  prospers  afterward  who  does  so." 

"  I  don't  believe  '  they  say,'  and  I  cannot  leave  you 
long  enough  to  go  anywhere  else,  mother.  Our 
nearer  neighbors  are  as  badly  off  as  ourselves.  I 
think  it  is  the  only  thing  to  do." 

Fortunately  Cassia's  pony  had  been  taught  to  come 
at  her  call,  and  she  also  understood  thoroughly  how 
to  saddle  him.  So,  about  three  o'clock,  she  left  her 
mother  alone,  and,  riding  in  the  shadow  of  the  woods 
lining  the  banks  of  the  stream,  she  managed  to  keep 
up  a  swift  and  steady  gallop. 

The  Briffault  ranch  was  seven  miles  away,  and 
she  knew  its  locality  well,  though  she  had  never 
passed  its  gates ;  for  it  was  built  at  the  very  edge  of 
u  swamp,  and  at  certain  seasons  was  almost  unap- 
proachable, except  to  those  familiar  with  the  treach- 
erous paths.  But  in  August  there  was  no  danger,  and 
the  place  was  a  wilderness  of  beauty.  The  great 


THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

trees  were  so  heavily  draped  with  moss  that  she 
seemed  at  intervals  to  be  riding  through  a  tent.  The 
sward  was  of  the  deepest  green,  and  decked  with  the 
most  brilliant  flowers.  Vines  of  miraculous  color 
hung  in  all  sorts  of  fantastic  festoons.  Birds  of 
such  splendid  plumage  that  they  looked  like  flying 
gems  flitted  silently  through  the  patches  of  sunshine, 
and  every-where  the  sense  of  deep  repose  brooded, 
only  broken  by  those  mysterious  forest  sounds  which 
haunt  the  lonely  woods. 

Here  Nature  laid  a  large,  still,  cool  hand  upon  Cas- 
sia's fevered  heart,  and  she  rode  slower,  arid  let  the 
peace  around  sink  into  it,  and  calm  her  from  head  to 
feet.  Presently  she  came  in  sight  of  the  house,  a 
large  wooden  building  with  deep  latticed  galleries. 
It  stood  in  a  kind  of  natural  park,  densely  shaded, 
and  surrounded  by  a  high  brick  wall,  the  only  en- 
trance being  through  large  iron  gates  of  elaborate 
workmanship.  Strange  stories  were  told  of  these 
gates,  and  Cassia  certainly  felt  as  if  she  had  entered 
a  mournful  shadow  when  she  passed  them.  They 
shut  with  an  angry  clang,  and  her  horse  shied  and  be- 
came so  restive  that  she  did  not  mount  him  again, 
but,  gathering  up  her  riding-dress  over  her  left  arm, 
led  him  down  the  great  avenue. 

It  was  literally  "  down,"  for  the  house  stood  in  a 
hollow  at  the  bottom  of  it.  The  trees  met  over  her 


FKEEDOM.  33 

head,  and  the  long,  still  banners  of  gray  moss  made  a 
light  inexpressibly  shadowy  and  mournful.  As  she 
came  nearer  to  the  house  she  saw  Captain  Briffault 
coming  to  meet  her.  He  carried  his  straw  hat  in  his 
hand,  and  was  exceedingly  handsome,  with  the  air  of 
a  man  of  fashion  rather  than  of  soldierly  command. 
He  had  divined  who  she  was,  and  he  put  her  quite  at 
ease  by  an  introduction  which  left  nothing  but  assent 
necessary.  And  Cassia  entered  at  once  without  cere- 
mony upon  the  business  which  had  brought  her  to 
Briffault. 

"  We  are  quite  alone,  captain,  mother  and  I,  and 
we  are  afraid,  and  want  help  and  advice."  She  did 
not  feel  as  if  any  apology  for  the  past  was  either 
necessary  or  in  good  taste. 

He  looked  at  the  beautiful,  anxious  girl,  with  inter- 
est and  admiration — at  her  large  brown  eyes,  and  full, 
calm  lips — lips  which  gave  him,  in  their  every  move- 
ment, the  idea  of  sincerity  and  repose.  The  long 
folds  of  her  habit,  and  the  drooping  plumes  in  her 
hat,  imparted  grace  and  dignity  to  her  tall  figure  ;  and 
though  Briffault  did  not  at  the  moment  analyze  these 
things,  he  felt  their  united  influence,  and  bowed 
to  it. 

"  Come  in,  Miss  Preston  ;  my  grandmother  can 
give  you  better  advice  than  I  can.  It  is  only  four 
days  since  I  returned.  I  should  like  you  also  to  see 


34  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

ray  little  sister ;  I  brought  her  home  with  me,  and 
she  is  very  lonely." 

Then  Cassia  remembered  that  she  had  heard,  at  long 
intervals,  of  a  Miss  Briffault ;  but  there  was  no  fur- 
ther remark  on  the  subject,  for  they  were  at  the  foot 
of  a  long  flight  of  wooden  steps,  and  a  Negro  man 
was  waiting  for  Cassia's  horse. 

"  Shall  I  take  de  saddle  off,  Mass'  Kayrnund  ? " 

Cassia  answered  the  inquiry :  "  No,  I  shall  need 
him  in  half  an  hour." 

"  Saddle  Don,  and  bring  both  horses  here  in  half 
an  hour." 

He  spoke  authoritatively,  and  the  man  bowed  and 
led  Cassia's  horse  away.  In  the  great  central  hall  a 
Negro  woman  was  sitting  sewing,  and  a  pretty  quad- 
roon girl  was  just  going  up  stairs  with  her  arms  full 
of  freshly-ironed  laces.  He  opened  the  door  of  a 
large,  shady  parlor.  An  old  woman  turned  her  head 
and  looked  at  them.  She  was  dressed  in  white,  with 
a  black  lace  shawl  folded  around  her,  a  square  of 
black  lace  on  her  gray  hair,  and  black  rnitts  covering 
partially  her  thin,  yellow  hands.  Her  eyes  were  black 
as  coal,  and  they  peered  and  flashed  out  of  rings  oi 
darkness.  She  was  nearly  seventy  years  old,  and  her 
face  had  been  gathering  something  Satanic  with  every 
year.  Cassia's  first  thought  was :  "  What  a  wicked- 
looking  old  woman  ! " 


FREEDOM.  35 

She  hated  the  Prestons,  and  at  any  other  time 
would  have  rejoiced  in  an  opportunity  for  expressing 
her  dislike,  but  just  then  every  feeling  and  every  ef- 
fort tended  toward  one  object — the  preservation  of  her 
power  over  her  slaves.  She  had  called  them  together 
at  the  first  whisper  of  their  emancipation,  scoffed  at 
the  idea,  and  threatened  them,  not  only  with  the  ter- 
rors of  the  lash  and  the  pistol,  but  with  a  still  greater 
punishment  —  something  supernatural  and  awful. 
They  had  long  trembled  before  her ;  they  believed 
firmly  that  she  possessed  dark  and  mysterious  powers, 
and  she  kept  them  in  awe,  as  wild  animals  are  kept 
in  subjection,  as  much  by  intellectual  force  as  by  the 
dread  of  physical  punishment. 

"  Go,  if  you  dare,"  she  said  to  them.  "  I  shall 
know  all  about  it.  I  shall  force  you  to  come  back — 
you  understand  what  that  means." 

Their  terror  of  madam  was  unbounded  ;  the  very 
vagueness  of  her  threats  increased  it.  None  of  the 
Briffault  hands  had  left ;  but  madam's  watch  for  near- 
ly six  weeks  had  been  a  frightfully  exhausting  one. 
She  had  almost  lived  with  her  hand  upon  her  loaded 
weapon.  Most  welcome  had  been  the  return  of  her 
grandson,  though  she  very  soon  perceived  that  he 
had  outgrown  her  authority,  and  had  cultivated  a  will 
quite  equal  to  her  own.  Almost  in  the  moment  of 
his  arrival  she  had  asked,  with  an  air  of  displeasure : 


36  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

"  Why  did  you  bring  Gloria  home  ?  She  was  safe 
in  the  convent  with  the  sisters." 

"  I  wanted  her  at  home.     She  is  quite  safe  here." 

"  Safe  ?  And  the  slaves,  all  over,  in  a  state  of  in- 
surrection ! " 

"  There  are  no  slaves  now,  and,  therefore,  no  ques- 
tion of  insurrection.  Why  should  people  take  what 
is  already  their  own  ? " 

From  this  position  neither  her  anger  nor  scorn  was 
able  to  move  him.  He  was  very  polite,  but  very  pos- 
itive, for  he  was  quite  sure  that  in  a  few  days  the  ar- 
rival of  the  provisional  government  would  make  fur- 
ther resistance  a  criminal  and  foolish  act. 

Cassia  stated  their  necessity  to  Madam  Briffault, 
and  the  case  was  one  which  touched  her  sympathy ; 
but  she  declared  herself  unable  to  give  any  assistance. 
She  did  not  wish  her  slaves  to  leave  her  own  land  ; 
she  was  very  much  averse  to  their  even  learning  that 
the  Preston  ranch  had  been  deserted.  It  lay,  also, 
directly  upon  the  high  road  to  Galveston,  and,  under 
the  circumstances,  she  did  not  think  it  wise  to  allow 
a  man  or  woman  to  go  there. 

To  this  excuse  Raymund  Briffault  listened  with 
great  annoyance.  u  Miss  Preston,"  he  answered, 
"  Madam  Briffault  cannot  understand,  for  she  has  not 
seen,  the  changed  world — the  deserted  farms,  the 
empty  homes,  the  towns  full  of  absolutely  idle,  be- 


FREEDOM.  37 

cause  absolutely  free,  Negroes.  I  will  speak  to  my 
own  servant,  Adrian.  He  will  probably,  at  my  de- 
sire, hire  himself  to  you.  He  was  in  camp  with  me, 
is  a  good  cook,  and  will  be  worth,  at  this  time,  more 
than  a  couple  of  women." 

He  left  the  room,  and  madam's  face  eloquently  ex- 
pressed her  indignation  and  dislike.  She  had  been 
disobeyed,  and  almost  reproved,  for  the  sake  of  Cas- 
sia Preston,  and  she  promised  herself  not  to  forget  the 
circumstance.  And,  although  she  did  not  speak,  she 
managed  to  make  the  room  feel  so  intolerable  that 
Cassia  was  on  the  point  of  leaving  it  when  she  heard 
the  rustle  of  starched  muslins  trailing  down  the 
wooden  stars,  and  then  a  light  footstep  and  a  little 
sharp,  rippling  laugh.  At  the  same  moment  the 
door  opened  and  a  young  girl  entered.  She  bowed 
to  madam,  but  went  forward  to  Cassia  with  a  pretty 
effusiveness : 

"  Raymund  told  me  to  come  to  you,  and  I  was  so 
glad.  Can  you  imagine  how  dreary  it  is  here  ?  The 
convent  at  San  Antonio  was  the  gay  world  to  this 
green  desert."  She  had  seated  herself  beside  Cassia 
and  taken  her  hand,  and  she  chatted  away  like  a 
school-girl  among  her  mates.  "  My  name  is  Gloria, 
and  I  am  Kaymund's  only  sister."  It  was  in  such 
unconventional  style  she  introduced  herself,  and  Cas- 
sia felt  the  interruption  so  pleasant  that  she  was  more 


38  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

demonstrative  than  it  was  either  her  nature  or  her 
custom  to  be.  However,  Gloria  was  not  a  girl  with 
whom  it  was  possible  to  have  ceremonies. 

She  was  sixteen  years  old,  but  she  had  a  singularly 
child-like  look  and  manner.  Her  head  was  small,  and 
covered  with  short,  black,  clustering  curls ;  her  eyes 
eager  and  brilliant.  She  had  a  red,  handsome  mouth, 
with  swift  smile,  and  small,  sharp  teeth ;  and  her  at- 
titudes were  full  of  little  graceful  movements,  with 
frequent  curious  turns  of  the  neck,  as  if  she  was  list- 
ening. Altogether  a  fascinating,  bright  little  woman, 
and  yet,  in  spite  of  her  pretty  petulance  and  vivacity, 
she  affected  Cassia  with  a  species  of  sadness. 

Yery  soon  Eaymund  returned.  He  had  sent  Ad- 
rian in  advance.  "  He  has  with  him  a  swift  horse 
and  a  note,  vouching  for  his  good  qualities,  to  Mrs. 
Preston.  I  dare  say  he  will  have  supper  ready  when 
you  reach  home,"  he  said,  with  an  assuring  smile. 
He  was  dressed  for  riding,  and  the  horses  were  wait- 
ing. Cassia  rose  and  bowed  to  Madam  Briffault ;  she 
had  advanced  a  few  steps  toward  her,  and  would  have 
offered  her  hand,  but,  in  some  peculiar  way,  madam 
made  her  feel  that  the  courtesy  would  be  unwelcome, 
and,  indeed,  impossible.  It  was  a  relief  to  pass  out 
of  her  presence,  and  she  felt  sorry  for  the  pretty,  sad- 
looking  girl  who  watched  her  away. 

After  passing  the  gates  they  fell  into  an  even,  and 


FREEDOM.  39 

almost  silent,  gallop.  The  prairie  was  so  still  and 
dim,  the  stars  so  bright,  their  own  personalities  so 
vague  and  unknown  to  each  other,  that  the  ride 
made  upon  the  consciousness  of  each  the  impression 
of  a  ride  in  a  dream.  Cassia  had  a  feeling  that  if  she 
shut  her  eyes  she  might  go  riding,  riding  on  for- 
ever. But  ere  long  they  came  to  the  Preston  place, 
and,  with  a  grateful  heart,  the  tired,  hungry  girl  saw 
the  dancing  fire-light  in  the  big  kitchen.  Adrian,  in 
his  white  cap  and  apron,  was  standing  in  its  glow, 
mixing  the  batter  for  a  gravy.  He  heard  their 
horses'  feet,  and  ere  his  master  called,  he  was  hast- 
ening to  the  gate;  for  Adrian  gave  a  service  of 
love,  and  Cassia  perceived,  that,  to  please  Ray- 
mund,  he  had  come  willingly,  for  their  comfort  and 
protection. 

"  The  coffee  is  on,  captain ;  and  the  biscuit ;  and  I 
am  making  the  gravy  for  the  fried  chicken.  To- 
morrow you  must  send  Japhet  to  cut  some  wood 
and  drive  up  a  couple  of  cows." 

Raymund  smiled  his  approval,  and  acting  on 
the  moment's  grateful  impulse,  Cassia  touched  his 
hand,  and  said :  "  Will  you  dismount,  and  eat  with 
us?" 

The  fair  lifted  face  was  not  to  be  refused.     He 
answered  gladly,  "  Yes,  I  will."     They  went   in  to- . 
gether,   and   he    sighed    comfortably   as    he    looked 


4:0  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT 

around  the  room  in  which  Cassia  left  him.  It  was 
so  pleasantly  white  and  cool.  It  was  in  such  spotless 
order,  and  it  had  such  a  delicious  atmosphere  of  re- 
pose, mingled  with  the  faint  perfume  of  sleeping 
flowers. 

Cassia  was  agreeably  surprised  by  the  improve- 
ment in  her  mother's  condition.  The  crisis  had 
effectually  aroused  her.  The  fright  incident  to  her 
position  had  driven  away  the  inertness  of  her  sorrow. 
She  had  left  her  sofa  and  was  walking  restlessly 
about  the  room.  When  she  saw  Cassia  she  said,  with 
a  trembling  smile  of  satisfaction :  "  There  is  a  fire  in 
the  kitchen  again ;  it  is  really  good  to  see  it ;  and  the 
boy  whom  Captain  Briffault  sent  is  making  supper. 
I  wish  it  was  ready,  dear ;  I  believe  I  am  actually 
hungry." 

"  That  is  a  good  thing  to  hear  you  say,  mother ; 
and  Captain  Briffault  is  going  to  eat  supper  with  us. 
Come  into  the  dining-room  to-night ;  a  little  company 
will  do  you  good." 

The  appeal,  so  often  resisted  before,  was  listened 
to  at  this  hour.  It  seemed  a  relief  to  the  anxiety 
and  loneliness  of  her  position,  to  discuss  it  with  some 
one  stronger  and  wiser  than  herself.  So,  leaning  upon 
Cassia's  arm,  she  went  into  the  dining-room,  and  the 
gay,  handsome,  hopeful  soldier  soon  won  his  way 
with  the  invalid  recluse.  The  supper  was  excellent, 


FREEDOM.  41 

every  one  was  ready  for  it,  and  Adrian  waited  on  them 
with  such  cheerful  willingness  and  trained  dexterity, 
that  Cassia  thought  she  had  never  in  all  her  life  eaten 
so  pleasant  a  meaL  For  of  such  diverse  elements 
has  God  made  this  wondrous  human  nature  that  we 
cannot  help,  even  in  sorrow,  feeling  the  comfort  of 
a  fleeting  joy. 

Nights  were  terrible  at  that  time;  full  of  vague 
fears  of  possible  tragedies — tragedies  whispered  on 
every  hand  with  bated  breath  and  sick  hearts — and 
all  were  glad  to  shorten  them.  The  meal  was  con- 
sciously lengthened  out ;  then  Captain  Briffault  sat 
with  the  anxious  ladies  until  midnight,  talking  softly 
and  solemnly  of  the  cause  which  had  been  so  bravely 
fought  for  and  so  totally  lost.  Many  a  one  was 
named  whose  place  would  know  him  no  more ;  and 
others,  whose  fate  was  yet  unknown,  but  for  whose 
possible  return  tender  hearts  watched  with  the  ter- 
rible sickness  of  hope  long  deferred. 


THE  LOST  SILVEK  OF  BKIFFAULT. 


CHAPTER  II. 
LOVE  AND  MARRIAGE. 

"  Then  she  came  to  me, 
Walking  in  white,  and  bearing  in  her  hand 
A  cup  of  blessing.     As  the  waters  cool 
Which  flow  from  mountain  tops,  to  meet  the  hot 
And  thirsty  valleys,  so  she  came  to  me." 

HABIT  is  the  reconciler  of  men,  even  to  the  most 
unlooked-for  destiny.  In  a  few  weeks  after 
these  events,  life  had  settled  down  into  its  new 
grooves  on  the  Preston  ranche ;  and  though  it  worked 
unevenly,  and  with  many  a  painful  restraint,  Cassia 
gathered  courage,  and  was  able  to  look  into  the  future 
with  a  hopeful  heart.  One  night  she  walked  down 
to  the  great  gates  with  Raymund  Briffault.  He  was 
not  saying  much  to  her,  but  he  was  making  silence 
more  eloquent  than  speech ;  and  Cassia  was  feeling 
all  the  charm  of  his  bending  face,  and  all  the  sweet- 
ness of  his  fervent,  delicate  admiration.  For  Ray- 
mund Briffault  was,  in  the  widest  sense  of  the  word,  a 
fascinating  man.  Tall,  handsome,  graceful,  with  a 
subtle  mixture  of  daring  and  wooing  in  his  manner ; 
he  had  also  a  character  full  of  surprises  and  impossi- 


LOVE  AND  MARRIAGE.  43 

bilities,  whose  "yes"  might  mean  "no,"  in  which 
two  and  two  might  make  five,  and  who  would  be 
likely  always  to  do  the  improbable.  But  Cassia  was 
content  with  the  visible,  tangible  joy  he  brought  her ; 
she  had  an  instinctive  dread  of  analyzing  her  happi- 
ness; it  seemed  like  pulling  a  flower  to  pieces  in 
order  to  tabulate  its  peculiarities. 

He  was  leading  his  horse,  and  she  walked  by  his 
side,  her  lovely  face  one  flush  of  youth  and  joy  and 
beauty.  Suddenly  they  saw  a  horseman  emerge  from 
the  shadows  and  approach  the  gates. 

"  It  is  John ! "  said  Cassia,  joyfully ;  and  the  next 
moment,  John  had  sprung  from  his  horse,  and  folded 
her  to  his  breast.  Then  he  looked  at  Raymond,  but 
ere  Cassia  could  speak,  Raymund  put  out  his  hand, 
and  uttered  two  magic  words,  "  My  comrade ! " 
They  made  a  claim  John  responded  to  at  once, 
though  he  promised  himself  to  look  much  further 
with  all  due  promptitude. 

The  next  clay  he  went  into  Galveston,  and  easily 
found  two  of  his  old  servants,  Jeff  and  Morris.  He 
sat  down  beside  them,  and  said :  "  I  know  you  are 
tired  of  wandering  about  among  strangers,  come 
home,  boys !  No  one  can  care  for  you  as  I  can ;  no 
one  will  give  you  better  wages." 

"  Bress  de  Lord,  we  see  you  again,  Mass'  John ! 
We'se  had  a  hard  time.  We'se  been  made  fool  ob, 


44  THE   LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

ebery  way — nobody  lias  giben  us  either  lands  or 
stock  or  place  far  to  lay  our  heads  down." 

"  Nobody  will,  Jeff.  You  must  do  as  poor  white 
men  have  to  do,  set  to  work,  make  jour  money,  and 
save  your  money.  I  am  ready  to  help  you.  I  must 
go  to  work  with  you.  The  old  place  is  deep  in  debt, 
but  it  is  better  to  me  than  any  other  place.  Your 
cabins  are  empty,  and  look  dreadful  lonesome.  Get 
your  wives  and  children  and  come  home.  The 
Prestons  are  Prestons ;  black  and  white,  they  ought 
to  pull  together." 

The  men  were  thankful  for  the  words.  They  had 
wandered  about,  homeless  and  idle ;  camping  in  corn- 
fields or  in  some  deserted  out-house ;  spending  their 
savings,  selling  their  goods,  looking  forward  with 
dread  to  the  approaching  winter.  In  a  short  time 
John  Preston  had  sufficient  help  on  the  place  to  work 
it  profitably.  He  had  no  fear  of  further  trouble 
with  his  servants.  They  had  come  to  understand 
that  the  government's  idea  of  liberty  was  not  to  sup- 
port them  in  idleness,  but  to  give  them  the  opportu- 
nity to  realize  and  enjoy  the  fruits  of  their  labor. 
They  trusted  John  Preston,  and  John  fully  deserved 
their  confidence.  He  gave  them  the  utmost  penny  of 
their  right,  he  added  to  it  many  a  slice  from  his  own 
loaf. 

He  had   gone   to   the  war  a  gay,  high-principled 


LOVE  AND  MARRIAGE.  45 

youth,  satisfied  of  the  justice  of  his  cause,  and  willing, 
if  the  sacrifice  was  demanded,  to  give  his  life  for  it. 
He  had  come  back  a  far  grander  man.  In  hours  of 
lonely  suffering,  in  dark  and  dangerous  watches,  in 
captivity,  and  on  battle-fields,  he  had  learned  lessons 
of  awfully  solemn  import,  and  every  lesson  had  lifted 
him  nearer  to  the  Infinite.  He  had  a  tender  heart, 
he  had  a  great  patience.  He  had  faith  in  God  and 
man. 

He  looked  upon  Kaymund  Briffault  as  a  grand  pos- 
sibility. He  would  not  advise  Cassia  to  marry  him, 
but  if  love  drew  her  soul  to  his,  he  would  on  no 
account  interfere.  Mrs.  Preston  was  of  a  different 
opinion. 

"  Kay  is  a  charming  fellow,  John,"  she  said  ;  "  but 
I  know  that  charming  fellows,  as  a  rule,  do  not  make 
good  husbands.  Why  should  Cassia  spend  her  life 
in  reforming  or  elevating  any  of  the  Briffaults  ? 
They  have  always  been  a  restless,  wicked  set." 

"Why  should  men  spend  their  lives  in  preaching 
for  a  pittance  ?  Or  go  to  heathen  lands  to  be  slain, 
or  die  of  fever  and  neglect  ?  Why  should  women 
devote  themselves  to  nursing  the  sick  and  poor  ?  To 
constant  acts  of  charity  and  of  self-denial  ?  It  is  not 
their  particular  business,  mother,  only,  that  being 
the  sons  and  daughters  of  God,  they  feel  constrained, 
as  their  elder  Brother  did,  to  be  about  their  Father's 


4:6  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

business.  The  drawing  of  two  lives  together  by  a 
true  love  is  a  providence.  Mother,  I  will  not  coun- 
sel Cassia  to  thwart  it.  They  who  cross  destiny  have' 
accidents  and  sorrows,  and  have  to  weave  their  whole 
after-life  from  a  tangled  skein." 

"  If  you  had  only  seen  the  grandmother,  John. 
She  is  dreadful.  Cassia  says  so,  and  yet  she  would 
have  to  live  with  her." 

"  I  am  going  there  this  afternoon ;  then,  perhaps, 
I  shall  see  her." 

"  Don't  go,  John.  You  might  meet  Kay's  sister. 
She  came  here  once,  and  I  took  a  great  dislike  to  her 
— the  silliest,  most  disagreeable  girl!  I  am  sure  I 
was  very  kind  to  her,  and  she  has  never  called  again. 
I  suppose  madam  has  heard  that  you  were  at  home, 
and  has  forbidden  her  to  do  so." 

"  Perhaps  so ;  I  would  not  be  a  desirable  lover  for 
her,  with  my  whole  estate  under  a  mortgage." 

"You  are  a  very  desirable  lover,  John,  for  any 
good  girl  in  our  own  set.  I  wish  you  would  go  and 
see  Mollie  Johnson.  She  is  such  a  nice  girl !  Her 
grandfather  left  her  six  thousand  dollars.  It  would 
clear  the  place,  and  let  you  begin  life  with  both  hands 
free.  Mollie  took  such  an  interest  in  your  letters, 
John  ;  I  used  to  read  them  to  her  and  show  her  your 
likeness,  and  I  am  sure  she  couldn't  help  loving  you." 

"Mother  dear,  no  one  can  say  to  love 'go  there' 


LOVE  AND  MARRIAGE.  47 

nor  '  come  here.'  On  the  contrary,  a  man  goes  where 
love  sends  him." 

"  O  John,  I  am  afraid !  I  am  afraid  of  your  go- 
ing to  Briffault.  Why  must  you  go  ?  " 

"  Ray  wants  a  strong  team  of  horses.  I  promised 
to  let  him  know  when  Blackwell  came  again.  He  is 
at  Shallow  Springs  now." 

"  Send  a  servant." 

"  They  are  all  too  busy.  My  time  is  of  less  value 
than  theirs." 

"  O  dear  me !     I  am  so  much  afraid,  John !  " 

He  sat  down  beside  her,  and  said,  gravely :  "  I  don't 
order  my  own  life,  mother.  *  My  times  are  in  His 
hand.'  Not  even  your  hand  is  as  wise  and  kind.  I 
am  sure  you  can  trust  Him." 

"  I  don't  know,  John ;  if  you  would  go  and  see 
Mollie  Johnson,  I  am  sure  it  would  be  all  right. 
But  when  men  run  into  danger,  that  is  a  different 
thing." 

Here  Cassia  entered,  and  the  conversation  being 
renewed,  it  was  finally  agreed  that  she  should  accom- 
pany John  to  Briffault's,  an  arrangement  at  which  he 
privately  smiled,  for  he  could  not  conceive  how  his 
sister's  presence  was  to  afford  him  any  special  pro- 
tection ;  nor,  indeed,  had  Mrs.  Preston  any  clear 
idea  about  the  results  of  her  own  tactics ;  she  only 
murmured  to  herself,  as  they  rode  away  together,  "  It 


48  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

is  so  hard  to  tell ;  but  if  you  don't  know  what  to  do, 
one  woman  against  another  woman  is  generally  safe ; 
and  I  don't  believe  that  Cassia  can  possibly  like  that 
snake-eyed  girl.  It  isn't  natural  that  she  should  !  " 

It  was  a  lovely  day — though  the  fall  was  well  ad- 
vanced— the  air  subtle,  and  full  of  amber  and  purple 
haze ;  the  foliage  thin  and  delicate-looking  ;  all  nature, 
in  a  measure,  idealized.  A  feeling  of  irresistible 
melancholy  pervaded  the  swamp,  intensified  by  the 
shrill,  plaintive  cry  of  a  little  desolate  bird,  which 
flitted  on,  from  tree  to  tree,  before  them.  Cassia 
tried  to  push  away  the  fateful  feeling  by  an  affected 
mirthfnlness,  but  her  pretty  pleasantries  fell  on 
John's  ear  like  a  melody  out  of  tune.  He  knew  not 
what  sad  angel  had  passed  them,  but  his  soul  was 
sorrowful  in  all  its  senses. 

At  the  gates  John  dismounted.  He  tried  to  shut 
them  quietly,  but,  in  spite  of  his  effort,  they  went 
together  with  an  angry  clang  that  frightened  the 
birds  from  the  trees  and  made  him  involuntarily  put 
his  hands  to  his  ears.  Fifty  yards  farther  up  the 
avenue,  they  were  startled  by  the  sound  of  some  one 
weeping  bitterly.  They  stood  still  and  listened. 

"  It's  a  child,"  said  John,  "  only  children  sob  in  that 
pitiful  manner.  Had  you  not  better  see  what  is  the 
matter,  Cassia  ? " 

He  helped  her  to  dismount,  and  she  pushed  her 


LOVE  AND  MARRIAGE.  49 

way  through  the  slight  openings  in  the  wall  of  myr- 
tles which  hedged  in  the  avenue.  John  stood  with 
the  horses.  In  a  few  minutes  he  heard  his  sister 
speaking  in  soothing  tones,  und,  as  she  did  not  return 
at  once,  he  tied  the  horses  and  followed  her.  The 
sounds  led  him  to  a  circular  hedge  of  myrtle 
through  which  there  was  but  one  passage,  then 
nearly  closed  by  the  year's  untrimmed  shoots.  The 
interior  was  a  place  of  graves,  and  by  the  side  of 
one,  with  her  head  upon  it,  lay  Gloria  Briffault. 
Her  face  was  next  the  turf,  but  Cassia  lifted  one  of 
her  small  hands,  and  said,  with  indignation,  "  Look 
here,  John !  "  It  was  red  and  swollen,  and  had  two 
livid  marks  across  it.  "Her  grandmother  struck  her 
because  she  wanted  to  come  and  see  me.  Struck  her 
before  the  servants !  " 

"It  is  shameful!" 

"This  is  her  mother's  grave,  John.  She  came 
here  in  her  pain  and  shame  to  weep.  Gloria,  my 
poor  child,  here  is  my  brother  John." 

John  stooped  to  the  weeping  girl  and  urged  her  to 
rise.  She  stretched  out  her  wounded  hand  to  him, 
and  he  held  it  between  his  own,  and  stroked  il 
gently,  as  he  would  have  done  to  a  hurt  baby.  Thoi. 
it  seemed  best  to  trust  her  to  Cassia's  sympathy, 
while  he  went  to  the  house  upon  his  errand ;  but  he 

said  to  his  sister:  "Induce  her  to  leave  these  long 
4 


50  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

grasses.  It  is  unsafe  for  both  of  you.  There  are 
sure  to  be  snakes  in  such  a  locality." 

He  was  pitiful  and  angry,  and  rather  disturbed  at 
the  interference  in  his  neighbor's  household  affairs 
which  had  been  forced  upon  him.  As  he  approached 
the  house,  its  gloomy  defiant  look  was  very  remark- 
able in  the  melancholy  afternoon  light.  There 
seemed  to  be  the  usual  servants  about  the  place,  but 
they  were  infected  by  its  atmosphere,  and  went  sul- 
lenly about  their  work.  As  he  mounted  the  steps 
the  door  opened,  and  madam  stood  in  the  entrance. 
On  her  yellow  cheeks  there  was  still  the  red  spot  of 
passion,  and  the  hand  that  rested  upon  her  staff 
trembled  visibly. 

"Well,  sir  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Is  Captain  Briffault  at  home  ?" 

"  He  is  not  at  home.  He  is  not  likely  to  be  home 
for  some  hours." 

"  I  wished  to  tell  him  that  Blackwell  is  at  Shallow 
Springs,  and  has  the  horses  he  is  in  need  of." 

"Who  are  you,  sir?" 

"  I  am  John  Preston." 

"  I  thought  so.  You  Prestons  have  always  been 
great  meddlers  in  other  people's  affairs.  Let  the 
Briffaults'  business  alone,  if  you  please.'' 

John  touched  his  hat.  "  Your  age,  madam,  per- 
mits you  to  say  whatever  you  wish.  I  am  very  sorry 


LOVE  AND  MARRIAGE.  51 

to  meddle  still  further ;  but  I  feel  it  right  to  tell  you 
that  your  granddaughter  is  in  a  condition  requiring 
your  kind  and  immediate  attention." 

"  Where  is  she  ? " 

"  In  your  burial-ground.  The  grasses  are  full  of 
dangerous  reptiles,  the  miasma  from  such  a  place  is 
now  rising,  and  she  is  lying  prone  upon  the  ground." 

"  Just  where  she  ought  to  lie.  No  position  is  too 
humble  for  so  disobedient  and  insolent  a  child. 
Don't  trouble  yourself  about  my  granddaughter,  sir." 

She  shut  the  door  with  the  words,  and  John  was 
left  alone,  to  take  them  in  whatever  spirit  he  thought 
proper.  His  face  was  somber  and  troubled  when  he 
rejoined  the  two  girls.  They  were  standing  in  the 
avenue  waiting  for  him,  Gloria  leaning  her  aching 
head  against  the  saddle  of  his  horse.  She  had  her 
riding  habit  on,  but  no  hat,  and  Cassia  had  tied  a  little 
pink  kerchief  over  the  girl's  black,  clustering  ringlets. 
She  lifted  her  pretty  head  as  John  approached,  and 
smiled  sadly — a  smile  as  wan  as  the  first  pale  sun- 
shine in  a  stormy  sky. 

John's  manner  was  very  gentle  to  her,  but  also 
very  firm,  as  he  offered  to  assist  her  back  to  her 
home. 

"  I  will  not  go  home,"  she  answered.  "  If  you 
will  not  take  rne  with  you,  then  I  shall  stay  here  until 
Kay  comes  back.  I  will  stay  in  the  dark  all  alone. 


52  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

The  snakes  may  bite  me  or  the  fever  kill  me.  O,  I'd 
rather  have  a  panther  come  in  from  the  swamp  and 
eat  me  up  than  go  back  to  grandma.  She  has  in- 
sulted and  abused  me.  Ray  wont  ask  me  to  go  back." 

"  My  dear  little  girl,  it  is  your  duty  to  go  home 
— at  any  rate,  until  your  brother  decides  for  you/' 

"  I  had  done  nothing  to  deserve  punishment." 

"  The  good  sisters  have  told  you  how  One  that  was 
absolutely  sinless  was  struck  and  reviled  by  wicked 
men.  I  cannot  take  you  with  me.  It  would  be 
wrong.  It  would  expose  both  you  and  Cassia  and 
myself  to  ill  words  and  ill  thoughts.  Do  right :  it  is 
always  best." 

"  Follow  John's  advice,  Gloria,"  pleaded  Cassia. 
"  To-morrow  I  will  ask  your  brother  to  bring  you 
on  a  visit  to  us.  We  can  make  it  a  very  long  visit, 
dear." 

So,  after  much  persuasion,  Gloria  permitted  John 
to  take  her  to  within  a  few  yards  of  the  entrance 
steps.  It  was  then  almost  dark  ;  the  ride  home  was 
a  rapid  one,  and  there  was  no  further  discussion  of 
the  subject  until  they  were  seated  at  the  supper-table. 
John  said  little  even  then,  but  Cassia  saw  how  ten- 
derly his  heart  went  out  toward  the  pretty,  passionate 
girl. 

From  Cassia  Mrs.  Preston  heard  the  whole  affair, 
and  she  was  much  annoyed  by  it.  "  That  girl  will 


LOVE  AND  MARRIAGE.  53 

be  here  to-morrow,  and  that  will  be  but  the  beginning 
of  trouble.  Mind  my  words !  John  will  feel  it  to 
be  his  duty  to  advise  and  guide  her,  and,  before  he 
knows,  he  will  be  in  love  with  her.  Women  like 
Gloria  Briffault  make  fools  of  the  wisest  men,  and 
men  like  Raymund  Briffault  make  fools  of  the  wisest 
women  ;  but  neither  you  nor  John  will  listen  to  any 
thing  I  say  until  it  is  too  late." 
"  Ah,  mother, 

'  When  all  is  thought,  when  all  is  said, 
The  heart  still  overrules  the  head ; 
Still  what  we  hope  we  must  believe, 
And  what  is  given  us  receive.'  " 

"  That  is  poetry,  Cassia.  Life  is  not  poetry,  and 
you  cannot  make  believe  it  is — after  you  are  married." 

While  mother  and  daughter  talked  in  this  mood 
John  walked  slowly  up  and  down  the  south  veranda. 
His  heart  was  in  a  vague,  sweet  tumult,  to  which, 
in  his  dimmest  consciousness,  he  gave  no  name.  He 
only  knew  that  he  had  felt  his  duty  to  be  very  hard, 
and  that  he  could  not  help  being  sorry,  because 
Gloria  must  necessarily  think  him  stern  and  unfeel- 
ing. While  thus  musing  he  heard  the  beating  feet 
of  a  horse  at  full  gallop.  "  That  is  Ray,"  he  thought, 
and  he  felt  a  little  nervous,  for  it  was  impossible  to 
tell  in  what  manner  Kay  might  have  taken  his  inter- 
ference, lie  waited  for  his  approach,  but  as  he  did 


54  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

not  come,  he  went  down  the  steps  to  meet  him.  As 
he  did  so,  Gloria  slipped  from  the  shadow  and  touched 
him. 

"  You  see  I  am  here.     Do  not  turn  me  out.     Rav 

* 

will  come  for  me." 

If  John  was  conscious  of  any  feeling,  it  was  of  a 
very  pleasurable  one.  The  little  hand  upon  his  arm 
was  a  claim  he  could  not  resist.  He  bent  kindly  to 
her,  led  her  into  the  lighted  parlor,  and  called  Cas- 
sia. How  beautiful  she  was  !  The  rapid  motion  and 
the  night  air  had  made  her  face  like  a  pink  rose  lit 
through  with  flame.  Her  eyes  were  bright  as  stars, 
her  soft,  black  hair  tossed  into  the  most  picturesque 
disorder.  As  a  type  of  lovely  girlhood  she  would 
have  attracted  every  eye  that  had  the  slightest  percep- 
tion of  beauty. 

By  a  masterly  stroke  she  had  won  her  way,  and, 
when  she  saw  that  there  was  no  longer  any  opposi- 
tion to  it,  she  put  on  all  the  pretty  airs  of  a  victorious 
woman. 

"  Did  you  think  I  was  going  in  to  say,  '  Please 
forgive  me,  grandma  ? '  No,  indeed  !  I  went  to 
Adrian,  and  he  saddled  my  pony  gladly  for  me. 
Pshaw  !  there  was  no  danger  ;  but  I  can't  help  a  little 
laugh  when  I  think  of  the  nice  time  grandma  and 
Raymund  will  have  together.  Rayrnund  is  very  fond 
of  me,"  she  said,  gravely. 


LOVE  AND  MARRIAGE.  55 

It  was  really  a  pleasant  tiling  to  watch  her  chang- 
ing face  as  she  talked,  eating  the  while  with  all  the 
gusto  of  a  hungry  child,  and  daintily  sipping  the 
chocolate  she  had  specially  desired. 

But  ere  she  had  finished  her  meal  she  heard  a  fu- 
rious gallop  up  the  avenue.  "  That  is  Raymund  ! 
Now  Cassia,  now  John,  you  must  stand  by  me, 
please ! " 

Every  one  was  prepared  for  a  storm,  but  Ray- 
mund came  in  as  placid  and  smiling  as  a  summer 
noon.  He  took  a  cup  of  chocolate,  talked  to  John 
about  the  horses  he  wanted,  sang  a  song  with  Cassia, 
and,  after  an  hour  of  pleasant  intercourse,  said: 
"  Come,  Gloria,  the  moon  has  risen,  and  we  shall 
have  a  light  ride." 

There  had  not  been  a  cross  word  spoken,  and  yet 
no  one  had  found  it  possible  to  name  either  Gloria's 
trouble  or  the  proposed  visit.  Indeed,  Cassia  would 
have  felt  wretched  at  the  whole  tone  of  the  evening  if 
Raymund  had  not  whispered,  ere  he  left :  "  Will  you 
grant  me  an  hour's  conversation  in  the  morning  ? " 

When  this  question  is  asked  of  any  woman  she 
generally  knows  what  decision  she  will  have  to  make. 
Cassia  thought  she  understood  her  own  heart,  but 
when  brought  to  this  solemn  verdict  it  shrank  before 
issues  she  had  never,  as  yet,  dared  to  face.  To 
marry  Raymund  Briffault  meant  to  take  his  home  and 


56  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

his  people  for  her  home  and  her  people  ;  to  dwell 
constantly  with  the  malicious  grandmother,  and  to 
bear  daily  with  Gloria's  impulsive  and  unreasonable 
moods.  It  meant  also,  in  a  great  measure,  a  resigna- 
tion of  all  her  sweet  cares  for  her  mother  and  John, 
and  the  change  from  a  cheerful,  well-ordered  home, 
to  one 

"  As  damp  and  dark  and  dull, 
As  dreary,  dismal  dying, 
As  if  a  ban  of  curses  full 
Upon  the  place  was  lying." 

Sitting  alone  with  such  thoughts  at  the  solom  mid- 
night, she  felt  how  easy  it  might  be,  and  yet  how 
dreadful,  to  spoil  a  life  by  one  mistake.  Cassia  had 
a  reverent  soul,  and  she  loved  her  God,  but  she 
shrank  from  taking  this  perplexity  to  him.  That  he 
cares  for  men  and  women  individually,  for  all  their 
small  joys  and  sorrows  and  anxieties,  was  a  grandeur 
of  Providence  not  yet  comprehended  by  her.  So, 
then,  she  missed  that  glorious  promise  of  direction  in 
daily  life :  "  And  thine  ears  shall  hear  a  word  behind 
thee,  saying,  This  is  the  way,  walk  ye  in  it,  when  ye 
turn  to  the  right  hand,  and  when  ye  turn  to  the  left." 
Isa.  xxx,  21. 

Yery  little  calmed  and  refreshed  by  her  night's 
vigil,  she  rose  early,  and  dressed  with  unusual  care. 
It  was  the  day  of  princess  robes,  and  no  style  of  gar- 


LOVE  AND  MARRIAGE.  5T 

ment  is  more  graceful  and  womanly.  Cassia's,  made 
of  soft  amber-colored  cashmere,  with  bands  of  fine 
linen  at  the  neck  and  wrists,  and  knots  of  poppy- 
colored  ribbons,  set  off  most  effectively  the  warm 
pallor  of  her  complexion,  and  the  ample  coils  and 
braids  of  her  black  hair.  She  had  made  up  her  mind 
to  speak  to  John  about  Raymund ;  and  she  went  to 
his  room  to  seek  him. 

John  was  an  early  riser.  The  six  o'clock  coffee 
always  found  him  dressed,  and  the  interval  between 
it  and  breakfast  he  generally  spent  in  reading,  or  in 
attending  to  the  accounts  of  the  plantation.  To 
Cassia's  u  Can  I  come  in,  John  ?  "  a  ready  and  cheer- 
ful answer  was  given.  The  morning  was  chill,  and 
a  few  cedar  logs  were  blazing  and  snapping  on  the 
hearth.  John  sat  beside  them  with  a  book  in  his 
hand.  He  put  it  down,  and  placed  a  chair  for  his 
sister. 

Woman-like,  she  did  not  at  once  enter  upon  the  sub- 
ject about  which  she  was  so  anxious.  She  spoke  of 
having  the  carpet  laid,  and  the  windows  cleaned,  and 
then  let  her  eyes  wander  to  the  cavalry  cap,  and  the 
crossed  swords,  arranged  above  the  chimney-piece. 
John  smiled,  in  his  heart,  and  waited,  watching  her 
meanwhile  with  a  great  brotherly  love  and  pride. 
Only  one  other  face  was  fairer  in  his  eyes — the 
bright,  changeable,  piquant  face  of  Gloria  Briffault. 


58  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

At  length  Cassia  said,  "  John  dear,  I  want  to  tell 
you  something.  Kaymund  is  going  to  ask  me  to 
marry  him.  What  do  you  say  ? " 

"  Do  you  love  him,  Cassia  ?  " 

"  With  all  my  soul,  John ;  but  there  are  some 
very  serious  things  to  consider." 

"  Indeed,  there  are !  Death  is  less  serious  than 
marriage.  Death  is  not  even  a  blow,  it  is  only  a 
pause ;  but  marriage  unrolls  the  awful  lot  of  number- 
less generations.  It  is  not  alone  Eayrnund,  but  per- 
chance his  children,  and  grandchildren,  you  may  be 
responsible  for." 

"  That  is  a  solemn  thought,  John." 

"And  the  responsibility  goes  not  only  forward, 
but  backward.  I  should  say,  that  you  must  include 
in  your  love  Eaymund's  grandmother  and  sister.  If 
you  cannot  do  this,  better  not  marry  him,  Cassia." 

"  That  is  what  I  fear,  John.  How  can  I  live  with 
madam  ? " 

"  Paul's  receipt  is  the  only  one.  He  could  do  all 
things  through  the  cross  of  Christ."  He  lifted  the 
little  book  he  had  laid  down  at  her  entrance — that 
wonderful  "Imitation  of  Christ,"  that  Loyola  read 
twice  each  day ;  that  Massillon  advised  the  clergy  to 
study  next  the  Scriptures  ;  that  John  Wesley  gave 
to  the  Methodist  Church  (among  whose  members  it 
has  had  the  largest  sale  of  any  spiritual  book  of  disci- 


LOVE  AND  MARRIAGE.  59 

pline) ;  that  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau  wept  over ;  and 
Racine  set  to  verse,  and  Fontenelle  declared  to  be  the 
best  book  written  by  man  ;  the  book  that  Louis  XVI. 
read  on  his  knees  in  the  anguish  of  his  imprisonment 
in  the  temple  ;  that  Dr.  Johnson  loved  tenderly ;  that 
Whitefield  kept  constantly  within  reach.  John  Pres- 
ton opened  it  at  the  twelfth  chapter  of  the  second 
book,  and  read :  " '  In  the  cross  is  salvation,  in  the 
cross  is  life,  in  the  cross  is  protection,  in  the  cross 
is  strength  of  mind,  in  the  cross  is  joy  of  spirit.' 
There  is  a  great  work  to  do  in  that  lonesome  house, 
Cassia ;  if  you  have  love  enough  to  undertake  it — love 
enough  for  God,  love  enough  for  Raymund,  do  not 
fear ;  but  if  you  have  the  smallest  doubt,  remember 
every  good  work  is  made  weak  by  doubt." 

"If  I  was  only  as  wise  and  prudent  as  you  are, 
John." 

"Kindness  is  prudence;  love  is  the  clearest  and 
highest  of  all  wisdom." 

"  Love  enough !  "  It  seemed  to  Cassia,  when  Ray- 
mund pleaded  his  cause  a  few  hours  later,  that  it 
would  be  possible  for  his  sake  to  do  and  to  bear  all 
things.  Her  heart  was  ringing  to  the  music  of  his 
words,  and  she  accepted  him  without  limit  or  reserva- 
tion. Their  betrothal  was  in  the  sunshine,  as  they 
walked  hand  in  hand  among  the  late  flowers ;  while 
the  honey-bees  were  as  busy  as  belated  housewives, 


60  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

and  the  swallows  were  talking  about  their  winter 
travels,  and  the  ripe  nuts  were  dropping  at  their  feet. 

John  joined  them  about  the  noon  hour.  He  was 
not  the  man  to  shadow  one  of  their  hopes.  He  gave 
Raymund  a  brother's  frank,  warm  welcome,  and 
took  him  in  to  see  Mrs.  Preston.  She  was  less  cor- 
dial, and  even  a  little  tearful ;  but  mothers  have  their 
own  view  of  giving  a  daughter  away,  and  in  their 
heart  always  look  upon  her  marriage  ceremonial  as 
having  a  little  of  the  odor  of  human  sacrifice 
about  it. 

"  No,  John,"  she  said,  u  I  cannot  pretend  to  be 
very  glad  and  pleased ;  for  I  am  not.  When  you 
have  a  daughter  of  your  own,  and  when  you  have 
watched  her  through  all  kinds  of  sickness,  and  spent 
days  and  nights  in  planning  for  her  welfare,  and 
worried  years  and  years  about  her,  while  she  was  at 
school,  you  will  understand  me.  And  then,  just 
when  her  education  is  finished,  and  she  has  joined 
the  Church,  and  you  begin  to  think  you  are  going  to 
have  some  comfort  with  her,  she  marries,  and  goes 
away  from  you." 

"  Girls  must  marry,  mother." 

"  I  don't  see  the  must ;  no,  indeed,  I  don't,  John. 
If  God  had  taken  Cassia,  we  should  have  put  on  black 
and  lamented,  as  if  something  awful  had  happened. 
But  this  Raymund  Briifault — who  is  not  a  good  man 


LOVE  AND  MARRIAGE.  61 

at  all,  and  who  had  a  very  hard  father  and  a  very 
dreadful  grandfather — comes  along,  and  thinks  he 
would  like  to  have  our  Cassia  for  his  wife,  and  you 
are  all  smiling  and  happy  about  it.  I  must  say  I 
don't  like  it,  and  I  don't  think  I  have  much  reward 
for  twenty  years  of  loving  Cassia." 

This  was  Mrs.  Preston's  view  of  the  marriage,  and 
she  was  not  a  woman  who  could  entertain  two 
views,  much  less  weigh  one  with  another.  She  felt 
as  if  Kaymund  had,  somehow,  robbed  her,  and  though 
she  was  always  ladylike,  she  was  silent  and  restrained 
in  his  presence.  The  day  after  the  betrothal  Gloria 
came  to  see  Cassia.  "  It  is  the  beginning  of  a  new 
life  to  me,"  she  said.  "  I  have  been  congratulating 
myself  ever  since  I  heard  it." 

"  I  believe  it  will  be,  dear.  I  will  try  and  make 
you  happy.  When  did  Raymund  tell  you?  " 

"  Just  as  soon  as  he  got  home.  He  could  not 
keep  the  news  a  moment.  Would  you  like  to  hear 
about  it?" 

"  Yes,  I  should,  if  there  is  no  reason  for  secrecy." 

"  Well,  there's  grandma  ;  she  is  a  reason  for  most 
any  thing  in  the  way  of  unpleasant  talking ;  but  you 
are  in  the  family  now,  and  you  will  have  to  take 
your  share  of  her.  I  was  sitting  by  her  side,  drawing 
threads  out  of  linen  to  make  lace,  when  Kaymund 
came  in  like  a  hot  norther. 


62  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

"  'Don't  bang  the  door,  Raymund,  and  take  jour  hat 
off  in  the  hall.'  Those  were  grandma's  first  orders ; 
and  Ray  set  the  door  wide  open,  and  flung  his  hat  on 
the  piano.  You  never  can  tell  things  to  grandma, 
she  always  knows  them,  and  she  asked  in  a  moment : 

"  *  Well,  sir,  is  Cassia  Preston  going  to  marry  you  ? ' 
And  Ray  answered, 

"  '  Yes,  grandmother,  she  is  going  to  do  me  that 
great  honor.' " 

"  And  what  did  madam  say  then  ?  " 

"  She  said,  '  What  an  event !  I  hope  old  Burke 
Briffault  will  know  it !  Why,  the  girl  will  be  bring- 
ing Bibles  and  hymn  books  to  this  house !  And  she 
will  be  on  her  knees,  doubtless,  in  it,  praying !  It 
makes  me  laugh ! '  And  she  did  laugh.  Such  a 
cracked,  thin  laugh ;  it  was  horrible,  Cassia.  Then 
Ray  said,  '  We  have  been  a  wicked  race,  bad  men 
and  worse  women,  and  this  house  is  haunted  by  mem- 
ories of  cruelty  and  evil-doing;  it  is  well  for  me  to 
bring  an  angel  here  to  purify  it,  as  you  say,  by 
prayer  and  pure  living.  Gloria,  you  are  glad,  are  you 
not?'  And  I  threw  my  arms  round  his  neck  and 
kissed  him,  and  said,  'Yes,  I  was  very  glad,  and  I 
would  try  and  be  good,  and  do  all  you  told  me.' 
Then  grandma  rose  from  her  chair  and  struck  me  on 
my  cheek ;  and  Ray  said, ( that  grandma  should  have 
all  the  respect  her  age  deserved,  but  that  he  was  going 


LOVE  AND  MARRIAGE.  63 

to  be  master  in  his  own  house ;  and  lie  advised  her 
to  have  her  rooms  put  in  order,  as  you  would  be 
mistress  every-where  else  in  it.5  Also  he  said  a  word 
for  me :  4  Gloria  is  seventeen  now,  and  I  prefer  that 
she  should  not  be  struck  again.'  Then  grandma  left 
the  room  in  a  rage,  and  she  said  some  words  too 
dreadful  to  repeat." 

"PoorRaymund!" 

"  Yes,  indeed.  Ray  said  he  would  rather  face  a 
battery  than  a  woman  like  grandma ;  and  he  looked 
so  tired  and  sad,  as  he  said  he  hoped  i  I  would  be 
good,  and  give  you  no  trouble.'  I  made  him  all  kinds 
of  promises,  and  I  asked  him  if  I  might  come  and 
see  you.  That  pleased  him.  O  I  know  how  to 
manage  Raymund ! " 

The  changes  within  the  Briffault  house,  which 
this  conversation  prefigured,  began  immediately. 
Madam  selected  for  herself  the  upper  rooms  on  the 
left  side  of  it,  and  into  them  were  carried  the  heavy 
quaint  furniture  which  had  been  bought  at  her  own 
bridal.  Every  thing  that  had  any  spe.cial  memory 
went  there,  even  to  the  secretary  and  likeness  of  the 
builder  of  the  house,  the  old  pirate  who  had  sailed 
with  Lafitte,  and  held  the  orgies  of  hell  on  Galveston 
island,  when  it  was  only  a  pirate's  stronghold,  and  a 
slaver's  port.  The  picture  of  this  Burke  BrifFault  she 
put  over  her  chimney-piece,  and  when  she  saw  that 


64  THE   LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

Raymund  looked  at  it  curiously,  she  even  conde- 
scended to  ask  that  it  might  remain  in  her  care. 

"  I  did  not  suppose  you  cared  for  your  excellent 
ancestor,  Raymund  ;  and  I  do,"  she  said.  "  He  was 
kind  to  me  when  I  first  came  here,  and  he  always 
took  my  part  when  your  grandfather  behaved  badly, 
which  he  did  twenty-four  hours  of  every  day  of  his 
life.  I  should  like  to  have  the  picture  while  I 
live." 

"  By  all  means,  grandmother.  I  never  remember 
noticing  it  before,  and  it  effected  me  curiously — that 
is  all." 

It  was  a  poor,  crude,  old-fashioned  oil  painting ; 
yet  there  was  something  remarkable  about  it.  It 
represented  a  man  in  white  pantaloons  and  blue  coat 
and  vest,  trimmed  with  brass  buttons.  He  was  lean- 
ing against  the  rail  of  his  ship,  giving  orders  to  crowd 
on  every  inch  of  canvas ;  and  the  lifted  face  was 
dark  and  sharp,  with  keen  eyes  and  a  cruel  smile.  A 
black  mustache,  waxed  and  pointed  at  the  ends,  gave 
him  a  ferocious  appearance.  Certainly  the  face  of  a 
man  with  whom  no  one  would  dare  to  trifle — a 
wicked  man,  with  the  taste  of  his  own  life  bitter  in 
his  mouth. 

Raymond  looked  at  it  thoughtfully  a  moment, 
then,  without  a  word,  turned  on  his  heel  and  left  the 
room.  He  had  his  own  cares  of  furnishing  and  paint 


LOVE  AND  MARRIAGE.  65 

ing  and  papering,  for  he  was  determined  to  wipe  out 
the  household  traces  of  the  past,  as  far  as  it  was  pos- 
sible. Pale  papers,  white  paint,  matting  for  the  floors, 
cane  furniture,  and  lace  draperies  for  the  windows, 
were  put  in  every  room  ;  but  he  mingled  with  them 
a  few  large  soft  lounges  and  chairs,  upholstered  in 
faintest  tints  of  blue  and  amber ;  and  some  bright  thick 
rugs  for  the  colder  weather.  The  horse-hair  and 
mahogany,  the  heavy  dark  moreens,  and  the  carpets, 
which  had  kept  the  weary,  passionate  footfalls  of 
three  generations,  were  all  hid  away  in  the  great  gar- 
ret stretching  over  the  whole  house. 

The  marriage  was  a  very  quiet  one.  It  took  place 
in  the  spring,  when  the  warm  air  was  tilled  with  a 
dreamy,  languorous  sweetness,  and  the  birds  were 
nesting  and  singing  in  every  tree.  John  and  Gloria 
filled  the  second  parts  in  the  ceremony,  and  it  was 
very  natural,  after  mouths  of  pleasant  intercourse, 
that  the  position  suggested  to  both  hearts  thoughts  of 
a  still  closer  and  dearer  tie  in  the  future.  At  this 
time  it  was  John  who  hesitated.  Mrs.  Preston  had 
never  conquered  her  dislike  to  Gloria,  and  in  her 
frail  condition  John  could  not  bear  to  add  to  the  dis- 
satisfaction she  felt  in  the  Briffault  connection. 

One  night  she  had  held  his  brown  cheeks  in  her 
wasted  hands,  and  sighed,  "  You  will  be  faithful  to 

me,  John?"     And  hu  had  kissed  her  solemnly  and 

o 


66  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

answered  "  Till  death  parts  us,  mother,  I  will  be  faith- 
ful." The  promise  had  been  only  a  general  one,  no 
name  had  been  spoken,  no  form  of  loyalty  specified  ; 
but  John  felt  as  if  the  promise  covered  every  desire 
his  mother  could  have.  Fretful,  nervous,  without 
much  intellect  or  much  character,  she  was  yet  to  him 
the  very  best,  the  very  sweetest  and  dearest  mother 
in  the  world.  He  could  remember  her  young  and 
beautiful,  graceful  as  a  fairy,  and  passionately  beloved 
by  his  father.  Not  even  for  Gloria  Briffault  would 
he  wound  the  heart  on  which  he  had  lain,  a  helpless 
babe ;  the  heart  which  had  never  failed  him  in  any 
boyish  scrape,  or  in  any  manly  sorrow. 

Yet  he  loved  Gloria  with  that  mighty  love  which 
comes  but  once  to  a  man,  and  which,  when  it  does  not 
come  until  middle  life,  is  love  forever.  Whatever 
Gloria  might  do,  wherever  she  might  go,  John  Pres- 
ton knew  he  must  always  love  her.  Yet  love  did  not 
blind  him.  He  saw  all  her  faults  ;  her  evasions  and 
prevarications ;  her  willful,  passionate  temper ;  her 
craving  for  admiration  ;  her  small  estimation  of  loy- 
alty. Good  men  do  not,  as  a  rule,  tumble  recklessly 
into  love.  Piety  and  culture  make  it  a  more  con- 
scious operation,  for  when  piety  and  culture  are  in 
the  ascendant  they  control  the  will  and  the  passions. 
And  so,  though  John  loved  Gloria,  it  was  with  a  love 
as  reasonable  as  it  was  strong. 


LOVE  AND  MAKKIAGE.  67 

In  those  days  no  one  had  pointed  out  to  young 
people,  that  of  all  beginnings  to  married  life,  the 
bridal  trip  is  the  most  trying.  Before  Cassia  was 
half-way  to  New  York  she  had  divined  how  disas- 
%trous  to  future  happiness  those  idle,  yawning  hours 
in  railway  cars  and  steam-boats  might  become. 
"  After  the  birds  have  built  their  nest,  they  don't 
take  a  bridal  trip ;  they  go  home  in  all  the  rapture 
and  glamour  of  their  first  espousals,"  she  thought. 
For  she  saw  that  Raymund  wearied  of  the  restraint, 
and  felt  the  obligation  to  be  ever  in  women's  society 
and  service  not  always  a  joy.  Gloria,  at  her  urgent 
request,  had  been  permitted  to  accompany  them  ;  she 
took  from  the  confidential  character  of  the  journey, 
and  added  to  the  demands  upon  Raymund's  time  and 
care.  Cassia  perceived  that  she  had  begun  life  under 
false  conditions,  that  nothing  she  did  at  this  period 
could  "  fit  in  "  to  the  joys  and  duties  which  were  to 
be  the  sum  of  her  future. 

In  New  York  they  had  gay,  bright  rooms  in  the 
St.  James  Hotel,  and  all  the  wondrous  panorama  of 
Broadway  was  ever  before  them.  But  Cassia  soon 
wearied  of  the  driving  and  the  sight-seeing.  She 
had  no  shopping  to  do  for  herself,  and  Gloria  was  so 
unreasonable  in  the  matter,  that  every  such  excursion 
with  her  generally  ended  in  disappointment.  The 
theater  and  the  opera  were  Gloria's  and  Raymund's 


68  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

delight.  Cassia  had  strong  religious  scruples  against 
such  entertainments. 

"  Go  once,  and  judge  of  the  places  yourself,"  urged 
Raymund  ;  but,  though  the  temptation  was  strong, 
the  admonition,  reiterated  again  and  again  in  child- 
hood, had  a  power  beyond  it.  Long  years  the  wise 
counsel  had  lain  in  her  heart,  as  a  seed  lies  in  the 
ground  ;  but  as  spring  calls  into  active  life  the  one, 
so  temptation  awoke  to  active  resistance  the  other. 

"  No,  Raymund,"  she  answered,  "  I  will  rest  con- 
tent with  my  father's  judgment.  He  went  frequently 
in  New  Orleans,  and  he  regretted  it.  I  made  him  a 
promise,  and  a  promise,  especially  to  the  dead,  ought 
not  to  be  broken." 

Yet  she  could  not  help  feeling  lonely  when  Ray- 
mund went  off,  night  after  night,  with  his  pretty 
sister.  Though  her  hands  fastened  on  the  girlish 
form  the  rose  silk  robe  and  white  cashmere  opera 
cloak  ;  though  they  clasped  the  bracelets  and  necklace, 
and  arranged  the  coquettish  hood  over  the  piquant 
clustering  curls,  she  could  not  hide  from  herself,  if 
she  did  from  others,  the  fact  that  it  was  all  a  little 
trial.  Standing  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  she  watched 
them  away  ;  gay,  handsome,  laughing,  full  of  pleasant 
anticipations  ;  and,  though  Raymund  always  turned 
for  a  last  smile,  she  frequently  found  herself  going 
back  to  her  room  with  tears  in  her  eyes. 


LOVE  AND  MARRIAGE.  69 

At  the  beginning  of  September  they  went  back  to 
Texas.  Every  one  knows  what  it  is  to  return  from 
a  pleasure-making.  Under  the  most  favorable  cir- 
cumstances something  has  been  lost — the  thrill  of 
expectation  is  over,  and  fruition  has  brought  the  bit- 
ter fruit  with  the  sweet.  There  are  memories  we 
would  fain  forget,  duties  we  would  defer.  Cassia 
felt  that  love's  young  dream  was  over,  and  though 
she  hoped  for  something  far  more  sweet  and  tangi- 
ble to  take  its  place,  she  was  conscious  of  a  melan- 
choly that  was  partly  regret  for  the  past,  and  partly 
fear  for  the  future. 

Raymond  was  also  somber  and  thoughtful.  There 
were  financial  and  domestic  questions  to  meet,  for 
which  he  was  not  prepared,  and  he  foresaw  much  an- 
noyance and  care  from  the  impetuous  temper  and 
well-defined  selfishness  of  his  sister.  But  when  they 
left  railways  and  cities  behind  them,  and  turned  with 
the  stage  into  the  long  vistas  of  the  quiet  prairies  and 
the  green  peace  of  unbroken  woods,  both  Cassia  and 
Hay  inn  nd  were  glad.  Involuntarily  their  hands 
clasped  each  other,  and  they  looked  steadily  forward, 
with  more  of  hope  and  cheerfulness,  than  they  had 
done  for  many  days. 

In  the  middle  of  a  calm  September  afternoon  they 
reached  Briffault.  Madam  had  told  none  of  the  serv- 
ants of  their  expected  arrival,  and  she  had  made  no 


70  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

preparations  for  it.  They  had  been  compelled  to 
hire  a  carriage  at  the  ranch,  where  the  stage  dropped 
them,  and  its  rattle  on  the  avenue  made  a  woman 
desert  her  washing  and  look  curiously  round  the  cor- 
ner of  the  house.  Adrian  had  left  Briffault  when  his 
master  married,  and  he  had  not  yet  returned.  All 
the  other  men  were  in  the  cotton-fields.  There  was 
no  one  at  hand  to  assist  in  lifting  the  trunks  but  the 
woman,  who  came  reluctantly  from  her  clothes  lines. 
Raymund  called,  and  stormed,  and  used  some  lan- 
guage in  his  passion  which  made  Cassia  tremble  ;  and, 
in  the  midst  of  the  hubbub,  the  shutters  were  flung 
back  from  an  upper  window,  and  madam,  in  a  high, 
cracked  voice,  shrieked  out : 

"  Have  you  brought  the  devil  home  with  you,  Kay- 
mund  Briffault  \ " 

He  did  not  answer  the  question,  but  it  quieted 
him.  In  a  few  minutes  the  carnage  drove  away, 
and  he  came  up  the  steps  to  Cassia.  Gloria  had 
gone  to  her  room,  but  Cassia  still  stood  on  the 
veranda,  waiting  for  her  husband.  He  was  much 
troubled,  and  said  : 

"  Are  you  afraid,  my  darling,  to  go  into  the 
house  ? " 

u  Kay,  I  was  waiting  for  you,  Raymund.  I  am 
afraid  of  nothing  when  you  are  with  me." 

He  led  her  to  the  threshold,  took  her  in  his  arms, 


LOVE  AND  MARRIAGE.  71 

and  kissed  her  fondly,  saying  :  "  O,  Cassia,  Low  much 
love  and  patience  you  will  need  ! " 

"  Yes,  but — "  And  she  smiled  brightly.  She  was 
thinking  not  only  of  Raymund's  love,  but  of  the 
words  John  had  read  to  her  that  morning  of  her  be- 
trothal :  "  In  the  cross  is  salvation,  in  the  cross  is 
life,  in  the  cross  is  protection,  in  the  cross  is  strength 
of  mind,  in  the  cross  is  joy  of  spirit." 


72  THE  LOST  SILVEB  OF  BRIFFAULT. 


CHAPTER  III. 
THE  SOWING  OF  EVIL  SEED. 

"  111  is  it  when  hatred  hungers  in  the  soul 
For  painful  food,  and  chokes  thereon,  being  fed: 
And  ill-slaut  eyes  interpret  the  straight  sun, 
But  in  their  scope  its  white  is  wried  to  black." 

"  A  woman  slow  to  wrath  and  full  of  love." 

AT  the  very  threshold  of  her  new  home  Cassia  met 
its  difficulties.  Raymund  had  left  the  house  in 
the  care  of  three  good  women  servants.  Madam  had 
made  their  charge  intolerable  to  them  in  less  than  a 
week.  Then  the  freshly-furnished,  pretty  rooms  were 
closed  tight  and  left  to  dust  and  decay.  None  of  her 
own  comforts  were  curtailed  by  this  arrangement. 
She  had  ever  by  her  side  a  negress,  called  Souda,  who 
had  for  thirty  years  been  the  willing  agent  of  her 
tyranny  and  cruelty.  •  In  the  exercise  of  her  evil 
power  this  woman  had  learned  to  scorn  and  to  hate 
her  own  race,  and  when  freedom  came  to  it  she  feared 
to  leave  the  house  of  her  bondage ;  feared  the  venge- 
ance of  the  men  and  women  who  had  writhed  un- 
der her  power  for  so  many  evil  years.  Besides 


THE  SOWING  OF  EVIL  SKKD.  73 

which  she  expected  much  from  madam — furniture 
and  garments  which  she  envied,  and  which  had  been 
promised  her  under  certain  conditions.  So,  while 
Raymund,  Cassia,  and  Gloria  were  in  New  York, 
madam  and  Souda  found  their  pleasure  in  arranging 
events  likely  to  foster  dissatisfaction. 

Thus  it  was  that,  in  spite  of  Raymund's  expense 
and  labor,  Cassia  came  to  a  home  disorderly  and  com- 
fortless. The  room  specially  prepared  for  her — the 
spacious  lofty  room  so  delicately  painted  and  fur- 
nished— had  suffered  much  from  neglect.  Moths 
had  cut  the  pretty  pink  upholstery,  the  lace  draperies 
were  yellow  and  limp,  dust  lay  thick  on  every  article, 
and  the  atmosphere  was  heavy  and  hot  and  sickly 
with  the  vapors  and  miasma  certain  to  accumulate 
in  rooms  unsunned  and  un  ventilated.  Cassia  flung 
wide  open  windows  and  blinds,  and  raised  the  shades ; 
Raymund  went  out  to  procure  servants.  But  it  was 
two  hours  before  he  could  find  any  woman  willing  to 
come,  and  it  was  quite  dark  when  their  first  meal 
was  ready  for  them.  Then  Gloria  was  sent  for. 
She  came  down  radiant  and  rosy  and  full  of 
chatter. 

"  No,  I  am  not  hungry  a  bit,  Cassia ! "  she  ex- 
claimed, as  she  pushed  her  cup  and  plate  aside.  "  I 
have  been  with  grandma.  Souda  was  making  her  tea 
when  we  arrived,  and  she  sent  for  me  to  her  room, 


74  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

and  I  have  been  eating  and  drinking  and  telling  her 
all  about  New  York." 

Raymund  looked  angrily  at  her.  "  Why  did  you 
not  send  Cassia  a  cup  of  tea  ?  You  were  very  selfish 
not  to  think  of  it." 

"  Yes,  it  was  selfish  in  me,  but  I  forgot.  I  forget 
things  so  easily,  and  grandma  was  so  interested  about 
the  operas  and  theaters.  I  imitated  all  the  actors 
for  her,  and  sung  her  some  new  songs;  and  look, 
what  a  lovely  ring  she  has  given  me ! "  and  the  girl 
proudly  stretched  out  her  hand,  on  which  glowed, 
luminous  and  resplendent,  a  large  sapphire  set  with 
diamonds. 

"  Had  you  not  better  return  to  her  ? " 

"  Yes,  Ray,  I  suppose  I  had.  I  really  do  not  care 
to  eat  any  more,  and  I  was  just  in  the  middle  of  a 
fanny  scene  I  was  describing  to  her,  and  I  dare  say 
Cassia  and  you  like  best  to  be  alone,  so  good-night ; " 
and  she  left  the  room,  laughing,  and  kissing  the  tips 
of  her  fingers. 

u  Little  traitor  !  "  said  Raymund  ;  "  you  are  of  no 
further  use  to  her,  Cassia.  What  are  you  going  to 
do  among  us?" 

"  Make  you  all  happy,  if  I  can,  Ray ;  going  at  least 
to  love  you,  and  do  my  duty  to  every  one." 

The  next  day  was  full  of  small  trials.  She  was 
naturally  neat  and  careful,  and  the  spoiling  of  her 


THE  SOWING  OF  EVIL  SEED.  75 

pretty  furniture  was  a  pain  and  a  trouble  to  her. 
How  heartily  she  did  wish  she  had  come  to  her  home 
when  it  had  been  freshly  garnished  and  made  ready 
for  her,  especially  so  when  she  perceived  Raymund's 
chagrin  and  disappointment.  He  had  expected 
Cassia  to  be  so  delighted  with  the  changes  he  had 
made  for  her  comfort ;  but  all  his  wedding  gifts  to 
his  beloved  had  been  tarnished  and  rnotheaten,  and 
shorn  of  their  first  brightness  ere  she  saw  them. 

John  came  very  early  in  the  morning  to  welcome 
her  home,  and  to  bring  her  mother's  love  and  bless- 
ing ;  and  John  had  not  been  many  minutes  in  the 
house  before  Gloria  found  it  out.  She  had,  doubt- 
less, been  expecting  him,  for  she  wore  her  prettiest 
pink  morning  dress ;  and  when  he  went  away  she 
loitered  down  the  avenue  with  him,  and  it  was  a  long 
hour  ere  she  loitered  back  again. 

In  the  afternoon  Cassia  had  another  visitor.  She 
was  very  busy  dusting  and  arranging  the  ornaments 
of  her  parlor,  when  Souda  entered  with  madam's 
card.  The  formality  took  her  by  surprise,  and  she 
looked  at  it  with  a  moment's  uncertainty,  feeling  the 
while  all  the  scorn  on  the  large  black  face  watching 
her  slightest  movement  or  expression.  She  hesi- 
tated, because  she  was  in  a  dress  suitable  for  her 
employment,  and  she  was  wondering  if  she  ought  to 
change  it. 


76  THE  LOST  SILVEK  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

u  Will  young  missis  receive  tlie  madam  ?  Madam 
does  not  wait  for  any  one." 

The  tone  was  almost  defiant,  the  inflection  that  of 
dislike.  Cassia  answered,  hurriedly,  "  I  will  receive 
madam." 

"  At  once  t " 

"  Certainly." 

Then  Souda  left  the  room,  and  Cassia  employed 
the  short  interval  in  removing  her  apron,  and  cor- 
recting, as  carefully  as  the  pause  permitted,  some  dis- 
arrangements in  her  simple  toilet.  She.  was  thus 
employed  when  the  door  was  swung  wide,  and  Souda 
said : 

"Madam  Briffault  enters." 

Cassia  looked  with  amazement  at  her  visitor.  She 
was  dressed  in  pale  lavender  colored  silk,  elaborately 
trimmed  with  white  Spanish  lace.  Her  shawl  and  cap 
were  of  the  same  lace.  Large  pearls  hung  from  her 
ears  and  clasped  her  throat  and  wrists.  Her  fingers, 
and  the  Spanish  lace  fan  she  held  in  them,  both  glit- 
tered with  gems. 

"  I  pay  my  respects  to  the  new  mistress  of  Brif- 
fault," she  said,  looking  steadily  at  Cassia,  and  then 
glancing  at  the  apron  which  she  had  cast  across  a 
chair. 

"  Thank  you,  madam.  It  is  a  new  era,"  she  con- 
tinued, with  a  smile;  "you  see  I  am  obliged  to  be 


THE  SOWING  OF  EVIL  SEED.  77 

partly  my  own  servant.  Some  of  my  own  old 
hands  are  coming  next  week,  but  in  the  meantime 
I  do  my  best.  The  furniture  needed  attention  so 
much." 

"  I  keep  my  own  rooms.  I  am  not  responsible  for 
the  condition  of  these.  Kaymund  furnished  them 
very  foolishly.  He  tried  to  change  the  atmosphere 
of  the  house  with  a  little  pink  upholstery ; "  and  she 
filliped  her  fingers  contemptuously  toward  the  dainty 
couch.  "  What  a  fool  he  was !  Nothing  can  change 
it.  It  is  a  place  of  sin  and  sorrow — always  has  been 
— always  will  be." 

"We  can  hope  much  better  things  for  the  future, 
madam." 

"  I  see  no  reason  to  do  so.  Raymund  is  just  like 
the  rest.  What  is  born  to  be  a  nettle  stings  young. 
He  has  trampled  upon  other  hearts  already.  Do  you 
imagine  that  he  will  spare  yours  ? " 

"  I  think  no  wrong  of  my  husband,  either  for  the 
past  or  the  future.  I  love  him,  and  I  trust  in  him, 
and  I  desire  only  to  make  him,  and  every  one  else 
here,  happy." 

"  You  can  exempt  me.  I  am  too  old  for  you  to 
try  your  enthusiasms  upon.  Besides,  I  will  owe  no 
happiness  to  you.  If  you  have  the  usual  romantic 
ideas  about  being  kind  to  me  for  Raymund's  sake — 
of  returning  good  for  evil — of  making  a  stepping- 


78  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

stone  to  your  heaven  of  me — you  may  as  well  aban- 
don them  at  once." 

Cassia  remained  silent ;  she  was  determined  not  to 
inaugurate  her  married  life  with  a  domestic  quarrel ; 
but  her  dropped  eyes  were  heavy  with  unshed  tears, 
and  her  cheeks  burning  with  indignation. 

"  I  have  done  you  the  honor  to  call  upon  you  as  a 
lady;  I  find  you  filling  the  role  of  a  servant.  That 
is  admirable !  Kaymund  is  sure  to  respect  you  for  it ! 
I  came  to  this  house  more  than  half  a  century  ago. 
There  were  one  hundred  and  twenty  slaves  on  it 
then.  Paul  Briffault,  my  bridegroom,  would  have 
made  them  lie  down  for  me  to  walk  upon,  if  I  had 
but  wished  it.  Well,  he  hated  me  six  weeks  after- 
ward, and  would  have  struck  me,  if  I  had  not  stabbed 
him  for  the  thought.  I  would  have  killed  him  if  he 
had  struck  me,  yes,  I  would,  and  his  father  would 
have  stood  by  me.  "We  had  a  happy  time !  You 
may  be  sure  of  that.  My  son,  Richard,  killed  his 
wife  in  three  years.  Raymund  has  been  to  college, 
and  traveled,  and  been  civilized ;  he  will  probably  be 
polite  enough  to  lengthen  out  the  torture ;  but  they 
are  all  of  the  same  stock,  all  of  them  men  who  crumble 
women's  lives  as  a  kind  of  spice  to  their  own." 

"  Madam,  I  cannot  stay  with  you  longer.  I  do  not 
believe  a  word  wrong  of  Ray.  I  do  not  fear  to  spend 
life  with  him.  The  good  stand  under  the  eye  of 


THE  SOWING  OF  EVIL  SEED.  79 

God.      He  will  give   his  angels   charge   concerning 
them." 

And  she  went  straight  from  madam  into  the  pres- 
ence of  God.  She  left  her  anger  and  her  fears  in 
his  sacred  shrine ;  and  though  her  soul  dilated  at  the 
sound  of  doors  that  opened  to  the  future,  she  rose 
from  her  knees  full  of  peace  and  confidence.  "  The 
Hope  of  Israel,  the  Saviour  thereof  in  time  of  trouble," 
had  said  a  word  to  her,  and  she  went  back  to  her 
duty,  softly  singing : 

"  '  Calm  soul  of  all  things !  make  it  mine 

To  feel,  amid  the  strife  and  jar, 
That  there  abides  a  peace  of  thine 

Man  did  not  make,  and  cannot  mar.'  " 

In  less  than  two  weeks  the  result  of  the  summer's 
neglect  had  been,  as  far  as  possible,  repaired,  and 
never  had  the  grim  house  looked  so  cheery  and  invit- 
ing. In  the  calm  October  weather  the  blinds  were 
flung  back  and  the  windows  set  open,  and  at  every 
window  the  clean  white  curtains  stirred  gently  in  the 
breeze.  In  the  lower  ones,  and  on  the  veranda,  there 
were  bright  stands  of  flowers,  and  Cassia  had  man- 
aged to  give  to  the  place  an  air  of  purity  and  cheerful 
unrestraint. 

Then  there  followed  many  weeks  and  months  of 
mingled  joy  and  sorrow  ;  days  of  almost  perfect  hap- 
piness, and  days  broken  in  two  by  little  family  dis- 


80  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

putes,  mostly  of  Gloria's  making,  consequences  of  her 
perfect  indifference  to  any  one's  pleasure  unless  it 
contributed  to  her  own.  Cassia  did  not  believe  that 
she  really  cared  for  her  brother,  and  it  troubled  her 
to  see  John  wasting  on  the  foolish  beauty  all  the  af- 
fection of  his  true,  good  heart.  She  was  also  unhappy 
about  her  mother,  who  was  quietly  but  surely  passing 
away  from  a  world  in  which  every  thing  was  changed 
to  her.  With  its  new  conditions  she  could  not  get 
into  accord  ;  all  her  life  was  in  the  past,  all  her  con- 
versation was  reminiscence.  She  was  like  some  flower 
that  had  outlived  its  season,  and  which  the  first  rain 
or  frost  would  scatter  on  the  ground. 

But  before  we  go  into  another  life  many  things 
occur  to  detach  us  from  this  one.  The  good  become 
more  gentle,  tender,  thoughtful,  wise ;  their  conver- 
sation is  already  in  heaven,  and  the  decaying  physical 
system  adapts  itself  to  its  end,  till  the  ebbing  life  goes 
peacefully  away.  To  Mrs.  Preston  the  images  of  her 
early  and  lost  loves  returned  and  beckoned  her  heav- 
enward. John  and  Cassia  understood  it.  "  Be  pa- 
tient with  me  only  a  little  longer,"  she  said,  one 
night,  to  Haymuud.  "  Spare  Cassia  as  often  as  you 
can  ;  before  spring  I  shall  have  gone  away  forever." 
And,  though  Raymund  had  only  answered  the  frail 
little  lady  by  kissing  her  hand,  he  granted  the  re- 
quest with  an  unstinted  generosity.  If  Cassia  wished 


THE  SOWING  OF  EVIL  SKI-:T>.  81 

to  go  every  day  to  her  mother,  he  was  willing  to  go 
with  her.  Mrs.  Preston  had  never  quite  accepted 
Ray mu nd,  but  as  the  great  change  drew  nearer  all 
her  small  animosities  died  out. 

It  was  her  son  John,  however,  who,  in  these  last 
hours,  was  her  chief  companion.  She  went  down 
into  the  dark  valley  clasping  John's  hand.  And 
when  she  really  came  to  it  all  her  fears  were  gone. 
One  night  she  talked  until  the  clock  struck  nine. 
u]S*ow  I  will  sleep,  John,"  she  said,  and,  as  he  kissed 
her,  she  whispered  the  last  words  he  had  read :  "  i  For 
Jerusalem,  that  is  above,  is  free  ;  which  is  the  mother 
of  us  all.'  "  There  was  a  pathetic  trouble  and  tender- 
ness, a  little  fear,  in  her  lifted  eyes  then ;  but  when 
the  light  of  the  winter  morning  fell  coldly  on  her 
tranquil  face  there  was  nothing  but  a  divine  peace 
and  a  happy  smile, 

"  As  if  she  had  grown  more  joyful 

As  she  clasped  the  Master's  hand  ; 
And  had  come,  or  ever  she  was  aware, 

Unto  the  Holy  Land ;  " 

for  none  knew  exactly  at  what  moment  her  angel 
called  for  her. 

The  death  of  any  good  mother  makes  a  great  blank. 
John  and  Cassia  mourned  her  sincerely.     Even  Rav- 
in und  missed   the  changing  of  life's  currents  which 
6 


82  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

her  daily  need  of  love  had  made  in  his  own  household. 
Yet  these  regular  visits  had  been  the  cause  of  many 
domestic  jars  ;  madam  was  sure  to  send  for  Kaymund 
just  as  they  were  ready  to  make  them,  and  her  differ- 
ent ways  of  expressing  her  scorn  for  his  devotion  to 
his  mother-in-law  seemed  to  be  endless.  In  fact,  her 
infinity  of  resource  had  become  a  terror  to  Cassia ;  no 
duty,  no  pleasure,  was  safe  from  her  interference.  If 
there  was  a  dinner  which  delay  would  spoil,  madam 
knew  the  moment  it  was  ready  for  the  table,  and  at 
that  moment  sent  some  imperative  message  for  Ray- 
mund's  attention.  Many  a  cold,  silent  meal,  that 
ought  to  have  been  a  pleasant  feast,  Cassia  owed  to 
her  interference.  If  the  horses  were  ready  for  a 
drive,  it  was  the  same  thing.  If  Cassia  was  reading 
or  singing  to  Raymund,  madam  had  a  letter  that  must 
be  written,  or  she  had  a  headache,  and  the  piano  dis- 
tressed her.  She  seemed  to  be  ubiquitous,  but,  in  re- 
ality, her  tactics  were  arranged  from  the  details  so 
liberally  supplied  by  Souda  and  Gloria. 

For  Gloria  was  one  of  those  women  who  can  be  true 
only  when  it  is  in  their  manifest  interest  to  be  true. 
During  Raymund's  courtship  devotion  to  Cassia  was 
the  profitable  side.  It  was  productive  of  rides  and 
visits,  and  excuses  for  dress  and  opportunities  for 
flirtation.  It  had  made  her  a  bridesmaid,  and  given 
her  a  trip  to  New  York.  But  Cassia,  as  a  wife,  had 


THE  SOWING  OF  EVIL  SEED.  83 

disappointed  her.  She  had  invited  no  company,  had 
no  parties,  and  she  had  refused  Raymund's  offer  to 
take  her  to  the  capital  when  the  Legislature  was  in 
session.  The  refusal  of  this  offer — which  she  was 
sure  would  have  included  her  also — had  made  her 
Cassia's  enemy. 

"  She  is  so  scandalously  selfish !  Because  Mrs. 
Preston  is  sick,  and  she  wants  to  go  to  her  every  day 
of  life,  she  wont  take  me  to  Austin.  It  is  a  shame ! " 
said  the  girl,  indignantly.  And  madam  was  delighted 
at  the  complaint,  and  carefully  nursed  it. 

"  She  is  jealous  of  your  beauty,  jealous  of  your 
singing,  jealous  of  the  little  love  and  attention  Ray 
gives  you." 

The  two  women  talked  over  Cassia's  conduct  al- 
most constantly,  and,  as  they  were  bent  upon  finding 
faults  in  her,  they  usually  succeeded  in  their  search. 
And  if  Raymund  did  not  himself  notice  their  animos- 
ity, Cassia  soon  found  out  that  it  was  a  dangerous 
thing  to  open  his  eyes.  If  he  recognized  the  cruelty 
or  injustice  of  any  attitude,  his  anger  was  so  extreme 
as  to  be  painful  to  every  one,  and  to  very  likely  pro- 
duce a  reaction  on  the  other  side.  If  he  did  not,  or 
would  not,  see  the  malice  so  evident,  a  complaint  only 
weakened  her  power,  and  gratified  those  so  mercilessly 
and  continually  plotting  against  her. 

And  no  malice  is  absolutely  powerless.     If  it  does 


8-t  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

not  injure  in  one  way  it  does  in  another.  Madam  had 
gained  a  most  important  victory  when  Raymund  said, 
petulantly,  one  day  :  "  I  do  wish  you  three  women 
would  bear  and  forbear  a  little.  Of  course  madam  is 
wrong,  but  she  can  hardly  be  alway  and  entirely  to 
blame.  Don't  notice  her  peculiarities,  Cassia." 

That  very  afternoon,  as  Raymund  was  lifting  his 
gloves  and  whip,  and  the  horses  were  waiting  at  the 
door,  madam  sent  for  him.  It  was  a  taunt  from  Cas- 
sius  that  drove  Caesar  to  the  capital  to  meet  his  assas- 
sins, and  how  often  a  momentary  impatience,  a  pass- 
ing pique,  makes  us  say  or  do  something  which  we 
know  at  the  time  is  foolish  or  wrong,  but  which  we 
have  no  will  to  resist  saying  or  doing. 

"  Don't  notice  her  peculiarities,"  quoted  Cassia. 

There  was  a  ring  of  sarcasm  in  her  voice,  and  Ray- 
mund looked  at  his  wife  in  astonishment.  Then, 
with  an  excessive  politeness,  he  turned  to  Souda,  and 
answered,  "  Tell  madam  I  will  wait  upon  her  imme- 
diately." 

Cassia  perceived  her  mistake  as  soon  as  it  was 
made,  and  as  Raymund  threw  a  robe  over  her  feet, 
she  said,  timidly,  "  It  was  your  own  advice,  Ray." 

"  It  was  suitable  advice  for  you  to  follow.  I  hope 
I  shall  never,  under  any  circumstances,  neglect  to  re- 
spond to  a  lady's  call ;  especially  when  the  lady  is  so 
much  my  senior." 


THE  SOWING  OF  EVIL  SEED.  85 

"Will  you  remember,  then,  that  my  waiting  here 
is  a  '  call '  upon  your  kindness,  also?"  Perhaps  the 
question  was  an  imprudent  one,  but  Cassia  was  pained 
and  perverse,  and,  of  course,  imprudent.  Buvmund 
bowed  stiffly  to  her  request ;  he  was  only  away  a  few 
minutes,  but  the  pleasure  of  the  ride  was  quite  gone. 
Kaymund  was  offended,  and  bored ;  Cassia  hurt 
and  silent.  She  understood  that  madam  had  seen 
them  going  hand  in  hand  down  the  steps,  laughing 
and  chatting  together,  anticipative  of  a  pleasant  drive, 
and  that  her  ill-natured  soul  had  devised  the  interrup- 
tion, and  calculated  on  its  probable  result.  But  if  she 
had  explained  such  a  contemptible  maneuver  to  Ray- 
mund,  he  would  have  laughed  at  the  small  suspicion, 
and  been  amazed  that  any  heart  could  entertain  it. 
Yet  she  knew  it  was  a  correct  one ;  she  winced  under 
the  injustice  and  wrong,  too  small  and  mean  to  com- 
plain of,  and  for  once  felt  so  hurt,  that  she  was  in- 
different as  to  how  Raymond  judged  between  them. 

On  their  return  home  they  met  John  and  Gloria 
walking  in  the  avenue,  Gloria  in  a  cloud  of  white 
muslin  and  pink  ribbons.  She  was  making  herself 
bewitchingly  alluring,  doing  her  utmost  to  remove 
the  last  barrier  between  the  heart  of  John  Preston 
and  her  own  will ;  and  Cassia,  who  knew  him  so  well, 
perceived  that  he  was  resigning  himself  to  her  influ- 
ence, though  trying,  even  in  the  act,  to  justify  the 


86  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

resignation  to  himself.  She  knew  that  he  was  say- 
ing to  his  conscience,  "  I  love  this  woman,  and  I  can 
do  her  good.  I  will  make  her  mine,  that  I  may  event- 
ually make  her  a  nobler  and  better  woman." 

Raymund  treated  John  very  coldly ;  he  knew  that 
he  could  best  punish  Cassia  through  him  ;  and  she 
perceived,  and  was  deeply  wounded  at  so  ungenerous 
a  reprisal.  John  felt  the  stinted  courtesy  and  left 
almost  immediately,  and  Cassia  went  to  her  room  to 
compose  herself  in  its  solitude.  It  was  closed,  and 
dusk,  and  quiet.  She  turned  the  key  swiftly,  knelt 
down,  and  hiding  her  face  in  her  hands,  bowed  her- 
self almost  to  the  floor,  as  she  told  God,  in  low  sob- 
bing words,  her  difficulties  and  her  wrongs.  Nay, 
she  could  not  tell  him  in  particular;  she  only  kept 
saying  as  she  remembered  them,  "  Thou  knowest, 
Lord  !  Thou  knowest,  Lord  !  " 

Suddenly  a  low,  mocking  laugh  transfused  itself 
through  the  palpable  stillness  of  the  room.  She  un- 
covered her  face  and  rose  to  her  feet.  Madam  stood 
by  the  window,  and  as  Cassia  moved  she  flung  open 
the  blinds.  In  the  remnant  of  light  her  sneering 
face  and  shriveled  form,  in  its  black  and  white  gar- 
ments, stood  out  clearly. 

"  A  most  edifying  spectacle,"  she  said. 

"  Madam,  it  is  a  shameful  thing  which  you  have 
done.  What  right  had  you  in  my  room  ? " 


THE  SOWING  OF  EVIL  SEED.  87 

"  The  right  to  do  the  duty  you  have  neglected  ; 
the  right  to  watch  over  my  granddaughter  when  she 
is  in  improper  company ;  and  this  was  the  best  window 
for  the  purpose." 

"  She  is  with  my  brother." 

"  I  know  that — all  the  worse  for  her." 

"  John  is  too  noble,  too  good — " 

"  John !  John  !  John !  It  is  John  forever.  I  am 
sick  of  John !  1  wonder  Ray  endures  it ! " 

She  spoke  so  fiercely  and  with  such  gathering  pas- 
sion that  Cassia  felt  afraid,  and  instinctively  struck  a 
match  and  lit  the  large  bronze  lamp  that  hung  above 
the  dressing-glass.  It  revealed  a  number  of  orna- 
ments in  their  cases,  and  some  fine  laces  lying  upon 
the  table.  Madam  pointed  to  them.  "  Your  father 
would  not  buy  an  ounce  of  corn  or  cotton  raised  on 
the  Briffault  place;  he  said,  'it  was  all  steeped  in 
tears  and  blood,  and  that  it  stained  his  hands  and  his 
honor.'  His  hands  and  his  honor!  You  are  very 
glad  to  wear  jewels  bought  with  Briffault's  gold — 
notwithstanding  the  tears  and  blood." 

"  Madam,  every  one  of  these  jewels  were  my 
mother's.  They  are  beyond  price,  because  she  wore 
them.  Please  to  remove  your  hand  from  that  little 
book,  it  was  hers  also." 

u  And  so,  I  am  unworthy  to  touch  it,  I  suppose ! 
O,  woman,  I  could  strike  you." 


88  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

u  I  do  not  doubt  it.  Put  down  that  book,  madam, 
if  you  please." 

Cassia  was  trembling  from  head  to  foot  and  crim- 
son with  indignation.  The  book  was  a  small  one, 
bound  in  red  leather,  with  gilded  clasp  and  gilded 
leaves ;  one  of  those  copies  of  "  Wesley's  Hymns  "  so 
familiar  to  the  last  generation.  Mrs.  Preston  had  died 
with  it  at  her  side.  It  was  as  sacred  a  thing  to  Cassia 
as  the  world  held.  It  made  her  quiver  to  see  it  in  mad- 
am's hand,  yet  she  feared  to  take  it  from  her,  lest  she 
should  receive  the  blow  it  was  ever  ready  to  give.  And 
if  madam  struck  her,  she  felt  as  if  nothing  could  atone 
for  such  an  outrage ;  she  shrank  from  even  imagining 
what  might  follow  such  an  event.  So  she  said  again, 
and  as  calmly  as  possible,  "  Please  to  put  down  my 
mother's  book,  madam." 

Madam,  on  the  contrary,  began  with  a  provoking 
coolness  to  unfasten  the  clasps.  As  she  did  so  the 
book  opened  at  the  frontispiece — at  the  calm,  grave, 
holy  face  of  him  who  had  the  "  law  of  truth  on  his 
mouth,"  and  who  was  "  the  messenger  of  the  Lord  of 
hosts."  For  a  moment  she  strove  with  some  mem- 
ory evoked  by  the  picture,  then  a  demoniac  passion 
took  possession  of  her,  and  with  words  cruel  and  in- 
famous she  flung  the  book  to  the  floor.  It  fell  at 
her  feet,  with  the  reproaching  face  uppermost,  and 
she  took  her  staff  and  pushed  it  violently  away. 


THE  SOWING  OF  EVIL  SEED.  8.) 

Cassia  lifted  the  precious  volume,  kissed  it,  and  put 
it  in  her  bosom  ;  then,  walking  to  the  head  of  the 
stairs,  she  called  her  husband.  She  could  hardly  have 
made  her  lawful  claim  upon  his  sympathy  and  pro- 
tection at  a  more  unfortunate  hour.  Her  slight  self- 

O 

assertion  in  the  afternoon  had  vexed  him ;  John  and 
Gloria  walking  so  affectionately  together  had  vexed 
him ;  and  the  stable  boy  had  been  using  his  own  sad- 
dle horse,  and  further  vexed  him.  He  was  annoyed 
beyond  measure,  when  Cassia,  trembling  with  excite- 
ment, demanded  his  interference,  and  insisted  upon 
madam's  withdrawal  from  her  room.  He  listened 
with  an  ever  darkening  face  to  both,  then  without  a 
word,  but  with  a  pointed  air  of  respect  and  concilia- 
tion, offered  his  arm  to  madam.  She  understood  it 
as  such,  and  she  took  it  with  a  glance  of  triumph  at 
her  accuser. 

Perhaps  Cassia  could  have  borne  this  if  Raymund 
had  returned  to  soothe  and  comfort  her.  But  he 
went  back  to  the  dining  room,  and  when  he  found 
that  Cassia  did  not  join  him  there,  he  sent  her  a  most 
humiliating  message  by  Gloria.  The  words  lost  noth- 
ing by  the  tone  of  their  delivery.  Cassia  felt  as  if 
she  could  not  obey  the  order.  A  cruel  scene  en- 
sued— a  scene  in  which  Raymund  forgot  all  that  cult- 
ure and  love  had  done  for  him — in  which  he  was 
simply  the  son  of  his  fierce  and  sinful  forefathers. 


90  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

Cassia  fled  from  liim  in  terror ;  Gloria  disappeared 
also;  even  madam  quailed  before  a  temper  which  had 
all  the  brutal  force  of  a  past  generation,  edged  with 
the  rapier-like  passion  of  the  present  one. 

When  it  had  spent  itself  he  ordered  his  horse ; 
then,  turning  to  Cassia,  said :  "  As  soon  as  you  have 
settled  your  dispute  with  madam,  you  can  let  me 
know.  I  shall  not  return  until  you  send  for  me." 

"Ray,  I  am  ill,  and  you  ought  not  to  leave  me 
now.  Stay  at  home.  I  will  complain  no  more." 

"  I  am  going  to  Galveston." 

"  It  is  where  you  ought  to  be,  sir,"  was  madam's 
reply;  "if  devils  haunt  the  places  they  made  hells 
upon  earth,  you  will  certainly  meet  the  Briffaults. 
I  hear  there  is  fever  there ;  if  you  go,  don't  return 
here  full  of  infection ;  I  have  no  mind  to  join  the 
family  before  my  time." 

It  was  about  midnight  when  he  left,  and  as  soon  as 
madam  heard  the  great  gates  clash  she  went  to  seek 
Gloria.  She  found  her  in  a  large  guest-room,  that 
had  not  been  used  for  many  a  year.  She  was  crouch- 
ing among  the  pillows  of  the  bed,  shivering  and  sob- 
bing with  fright. 

"Come  to  my  room,  child.  Souda  has  made  us  a 
cup  of  chocolate,  and  I  have  some  things  to  say  to 
you.  What  brought  you  here,  I  wonder? " 

"  I  heard  Souda  say  nobody  ever  came  here,  and 


THE  SOWING  OF  EVIL  SEED.  91 

I  wanted  some  place  to  hide  in.  Whose  picture 
is  that  ?  How  pretty !  How  sad !  Who  is  it, 
grandma  ? " 

"  The  picture  of  the  woman  who  was  your  mother 
and  Kay's  mother.  Poor  little  thing !  Don't  come 
to  this  room  any  more.  I  hate  the  place.  I  hope 
you  admired  your  brother  to-night.  It  is  the  first 
time  I  have  seen  him  look  natural  for  several  years. 
If  he  had  taken  the  whip,  which  I  saw  him  lift  sev- 
eral times,  to  you,  I  should  not  have  been  the  least 
astonished." 

"If  he  had,  grandma,  I  should  have  stabbed 
him ; "  and  she  set  her  small  sharp  teeth  fiercely 
together,  and  looked  quite  capable  of  carrying  out 
her  threat. 

"  Ha !  ha !  What  a  tragedy  is  walking  up  and 
down  this  old  house  !  Have  you  been  rehearsing  it  ? 
What  the  heart  dreams  about  the  hands  give  life  to. 
It  is  not  safe  to  dream  such  things  now.  Civilization 
has  linked  Briffanlt  to  the  law  ;  m ore's  the  pity !  " 

Talking  thus  they  reached  madam's  room.  It  was, 
as  usual,  brilliantly  illuminated  ;  and  it  had  a  kind  of 
magnificence  very  distinct  from  the  rest  of  the  house 
— the  magnificence  of  old,  yet  rich  and  splendid  fur- 
niture. It  was  large  and  lofty,  and  flooded  with 
light  in  every  corner.  Sonda  was  spreading  a  table 
with  several  delicacies.  There  was  even  an  air  of 


92  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

festivity  about  the  room,  and  madam  smiled  and 
rubbed  her  thin  hands  until  the  rings  and  bracelets 
she  wore  made  a  little  jingling. 

"  It  really  seems  like  old  times,  Souda.  There  is 
the  same  stormy  feeling  in  the  house,  and  Captain 
Burke  looks  precisely  as  he  used  to  look  when  Paul 
and  I  had  been  having  an  understanding ; "  and  she 
smiled  and  nodded  to  the  picture,  as  if  congratulat- 
ing it. 

Souda  served  them,  and  then,  at  a  glance  from 
madam,  withdrew.  Madam  had  something  to  say, 
and  she  entered  upon  it  without  preliminaries. 

"  Gloria,  I  have  seen  you  lately  walking  very  often 
with  John  Preston.  What  do  you  mean  by  it? 
Don't  lie  to  me.  It  is  no  use." 

"  To-night  John  confessed  that  he  loves  me.  lie 
said  he  was  going  to  ask  you  and  Ray  to  agree  to  our 
marriage  ;  only  Ray  was  so  cross  when  he  came  back 
from  his  ride  with  Cassia." 

Madam  put  down  her  cup,  patted  Gloria  on  the 
cheek,  and  laughed  immoderately.  "  To  think  of 
you  !  a  silly  child !  without  intellect,  without  relig- 
ion, without  any  morality  worth  speaking  of,  capti- 
vating the  admirable,  the  excellent,  the  pious  John 
Preston — a  man  good  enough  for  Eleanor  Davis,  or 
any  other  such  ornament  to  her  sex  !  What  are  you 
going  to  do  with  your  lover,  Gloria  ? " 


THE  SOWING  OF  EVIL  SEED.  93 

u  I  suppose  I  must  marry,  grandma.  I  never  see 
any  one  else." 

"  No,  you  must  not  marry  him.  It  is  a  shame  that 
you  were  not  taken  to  Austin  last  winter.  That  was, 
of  course,  Cassia's  jealousy  of  you.  You  ought  to 
see  for  yourself  that  there  are  very  different  men, 
and  very  different  lovers,  from  John  Preston.  Why, 
child,  he  is  not  worthy  to  touch  your  hand!  Now 
listen,  I  have  some  connections  in  San  Antonio.  I 
will  write  to  them  before  next  winter,  and  arrange 
for  you  to  go  into  society  under  their  protection. 
Maria  Gomez  isn't  a  nice  woman,  but  she  is  stylish, 
and  she  has  a  tine  house,  and  can  introduce  you 
among  the  richest  and  best  of  the  Anglo-Spanish 
people  there." 

"  I  should  enjoy  that  very  much.  Thank  you, 
grandma." 

"  You  shall  have  the  finest  dresses  that  money  can 
buy.  I  will  send  to  New  York  for  them — and,  look 
here ! "  She  took  from  her  pocket  a  little  golden 
key,  and,  going  to  the  old  secretary,  opened  its  case 
of  small  interior  drawers,  one  after  the  other,  all  of 
them  full  of  jewels — rubies,  sapphires,  emeralds,  dia- 
monds, pearls,  golden  trinkets  of  every  kind.  Gloria 
looked  on  in  a  kind  of  rapture,  clasping  her  small 
hands,  and  ejaculating,  "  O  !  O  !  O  how  splendid ! 
How  magnificent ! " 


94  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

"  I  will  lend  you  some  of  these  to  wear.  There 
shall  not  be  a  girl  half  so  richly  dressed  as  you  in  all 
the  land.  But  you  must  promise  me  that  you  will 
never  marry  John  Preston  ;  never,  under  any  circum- 
stances." 

"I  am  ready  to  promise  that,  grandma,  I  don't 
care  much  for  him.  I  had  no  other  company,  and 
John  loves  me  so ;  it  was  an  amusement." 

"  Amuse  yourself  as  much  as  you  desire  with  him. 
The  more  you  disappoint  John  Preston  the  more  I 
will  give  you.  Every  time  you  make  him  suffer 
shall  be  a  fresli  pleasure  to  you;  I  promise  it.  But, 
remember,  if  you  ever  marry  him,  I  will  torture  you 
into  the  grave  ;  yes,  I  will ;  if  I  am  dead,  I  will  come 
back  to  do  it." 

"  Grandma,  you  have  my  promise.   I  wont  break  it." 

Then  madam  took  a  pearl  ring  from  her  own 
hand  and  put  it  upon  Gloria's.  "I  bind  you  with 
this  ring,"  she  said  ;  "  if  you  break  your  promise,  you 
will  be  sure  to  have  sorrow  upon  sorrow."  The  girl 
was  much  impressed  by  madam's  manner  ;  she  looked 
at  the  ring  with  fear,  almost  with  aversion  ;  but  she 
did  not  dare  either  to  reject  the  gage,  or  to  remove  it. 

"Now,  let  us  finish  our  chocolate.  Some  day,  if 
you  do  as  I  desire  you,  all  the  jewels  will  be  your 
own.  They  are  a  great  fortune.  They  will  be  your 
fortune  if  your  husband  pleases  me." 


THE  SOWING  OF  EVIL  SEED.  95 

"  Did  grandpa  give  you  them  ?  Or  were  you  very 
rich  before  you  married  him  ? " 

No  one  had  ever  presumed  to  ask  madam  per- 
sonal questions  before.  For  a  moment  her  anger 
rose,  but  a  single  glance  at  Gloria  showed  her  that 
the  question  was  one  of  simple  girlish  curiosity. 
An  expression  of  singular  softness  came  over  her, 
and,  with  eyes  and  voice  full  of  the  sadness  of  re- 
trospection, she  answered  :  "  Your  grandfather  gave 
me  all  in  the  three  top  drawers,  on  the  left  side. 
My  father-in-law,  Captain  Burke  Briffault,  gave 
me  all  the  rest;"  and  she  again  looked  up  at  the 
picture,  as  if  there  were  some  intelligence  between 
them. 

"  He  must  have  been  very  rich.  How  could  he 
buy  so  many  jewels  ? " 

"  He  bought  them  with  his  sword.  He  was  at  the 
capture  of  Panama,  and  many  other  captures." 

"  Did  you  not  have  some  when  you  married  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Was  your  father  rich  ? " 

"  No.  Ask  no  more  questions,  child.  Good-night, 
and  remember  your  promise.  I  shall  expect  you  to 
tell  me  every  thing."  She  held  out  her  hand,  and 
Gloria  touched  it  and  went  thoughtfully  to  her  own 
room.  Her  heart  was  full  of  new  hopes  and  plans, 
of  dreams  of  conquest  and  of  social  royalties.  Into 


96  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

them  John  Preston  never  entered.  The  true  heart 
she  had  amused  herself  with  was  of  less  value  to  her 
than  the  pearl  upon  her  finger.  Usually  the  devil 
makes  such  good  bargains — a  little  land,  a  little  gold, 
a  little  honor,  or  a  few  jewels,  are  sufficient.  There 
was  only  one  soul  to  whom  lie  thought  it  necessary  to 
offer  the  whole  world. 

It  was  more  than  two  hours  after  midnight,  yet 
madam's  end  of  the  lonely  mansion  was  in  a  blaze  of 
light.  The  windows  were  wide  open,  the  restless  old 
woman,  in  her  lace  and  jewels,  wandering  about  the 
room,  and  the  tall,  black  form  of  Souda  standing  al- 
most motionless  behind  madam's  chair.  For  madam 
had  a  terror  of  the  darkness  ;  she  drove  it  away  with 
a  fictitious  light,  and  then,  when  the  dawn  broke,  she 
had  the  blinds  closed  and  went  to  sleep.  Souda  had 
become  used  to  the  same  hours.  After  Gloria  left, 
they  discussed  the  quarrel  with  the  relish  of  old  peo- 
ple who  have  a  pleasure  with  the  flavor  of  other  years 
in  it.  Madam  was  absolutely  happy ;  she  laughed 
and  played  with  her  bracelets,  and  pulled  on  and  off 
her  rings,  and  imitated  Raymund  and  Cassia  with  a 
clever  and  mocking  fidelity. 

Even  if  Cassia  had  known  it,  the  cruelty  at  that 
hour  would  have  been  of  small  importance  to  her. 
She  had  fled  to  her  room  in  terror  and  distress  so 
great,  that  at  first  the  sound  of  Ray  galloping  away 


THE  SOWING  OF  EVIL  SEED.  97 

from  her  had  seemed  a  relief.  Her  head  throbbed 
violently,  light  was  intolerable  to  her  aching  eyes ; 
she  put  down  the  lamp  as  low  as  possible,  and  slowly 
paced  the  large,  dim  room.  Then  the  conscious  want 
of  help  and  comfort  forced  her  to  feel  out  into  the 
abyss  for  something  mightier  than  flesh  and  blood 
to  lean  upon.  Often  our  first  prayer,  in  such  sorrow, 
is  an  excuse — "  I  could  not  help  it.  Lord  !  I  bore  it 
as  long  as  I  could  ! "  These  were  Cassia's  first,  low, 
moaning  cries.  It  was  not  madam's  hatred  nor 
Gloria's  impertinences  that  she  thought  of — it  was 
that  Raymund  had  deserted  her  and  made  her  a 
laughter  to  those  who  had  dealt  so  treacherously  and 
cruelly  with  her. 

What  had  she  done  wrong  ?  She  tried  to  settle 
that  question  first  of  all  in  her  own  mind.  Had  she 
been  too  impatient  with  madam  ?  Was  it  wrong  to 
call  Kaymund  to  interfere  ?  Was  it  wrong  to  refuse 
obedience  to  an  insolent  message  ?  For  some  time 
she  defended  herself  to  herself.  As  the  hours 
went  on  the  first  turbulence  of  her  grief  subsided. 
she  grew  calm  and  sorrowful,  and,  in  the  tender, 
vague  mystery  of  the  time  and  hour,  the  feeling  of 
the  Infinite  around  her  grew  sweetly  and  solemnly 
distinct.  Then,  when  the  divine  presence  was  felt, 
her  soul  turned  to  it.  "  My  God  !  my  God ! "  she 
whispered,  and  she  bowed  herself  before  him.  And, 


98  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BEIFFACLT. 

O  !  "  When  he  giveth  quietness,  who  then  can  make 
trouble  ? " 

"  She  had  been  alone  on  a  troubled  sea, 
Alone,  alone  on  the  wild  wide  sea, 
Then  Oue  came  into  her  boat  from  the  sea  ; 
And  the  wind  fell  low  round  her  little  bark, 
And  a  wounded  hand  touched  hers  in  the  dark, 
And  a  weary  head  on  her  breast  was  laid, 
And  a  trembling  voice — as  of  one  whom  pain 
Had  done  to  death — in  a  whisper  said, 
4 1  hud  no  where  else  to  lay  my  head.'  " 

And  the  storm  was  over  and  there  was  a  great  peace 
in  her  soul.  Long  ere  madam  had  fought  away  the 
night  shadows,  long  ere  Gloria  had  wearied  herself 
with  imaginary  triumphs,  Cassia  had  fallen  asleep, 
comforted  with  the  consciousness  that  underneath  her 
were  the  arms  of  an  everlasting  love. 

She  breakfasted  alone,  and  then  drove  over  to  see 
John.  How  precious,  at  this  hour,  would  her  moth- 
er's sympathy  have  been  !  Mothers  may  have  little 
intellect  and  little  knowledge,  but  O,  how  great  is 
their  love !  And  in  sorrow  it  is  not  intellect  or 
knowledge  we  need  ;  it  is  human  kindness ;  some 
one  to  kiss  our  trembling  lips,  and  wipe  our  wet 
eyes,  and  fold  us  to  a  heart  that  truly  loves  us.  Cas- 
sia went  into  her  mother's*  room  and  knelt  down  by 
the  empty  couch,  and  laid  her  head  upon  the  pillow 
where  once  the  dear  mother-head  had  rested. 


TIIE  SOWING  OF  EVIL  SEED.  99 

"  If  she  was  only  here,  John !  if  she  was  only 
here  ! "  she  sobbed. 

"  Who  dare  say  that  she  is  not  here  ?  Do  you 
think  our  mother  deserted  us  when  she  went  from, 
our  mortal  sight,  Cassia  ? " 

"  But  I  cannot  see  her,  John.     I  cannot  see  her  ! " 

"  You  cannot  see  me  when  you  are  at  Briffault ;  do 
you  forget  me  ?  You  cannot  see  beyond  the  horizon, 
dear ;  is  there,  therefore,  nothing  beyond  it  ?  Perhaps 
it  is  our  own  fault  that  we  have  not  more  intelligences 
from  the  unseen.  It  would  be  a  bare  life  this,  if  the 
inward  ear  could  not  catch  echoes  from  the  other 
one  ;  if  we  had  not 

1  Independent  solaces, 
Incumbencies  more  awful,  visitings 
From  the  upholder  of  the  tranquil  soul.' 

Can  you  understand,  Cassia,  that  I  very  frequently 
come  into  this  room  and  say,  softly,  '  Good-morning, 
mother?'" 

"  O,  John  !  John  !  speak  to  her  for  me.  I  am  so 
wretched !  It  must  be  a  little  class-meeting  between 
you  and  me,  John.  I  want  to  tell  you  all  my  fault, 
and  all  the  trouble  that  has  come  of  it ;  then  you  can 
advise  and  comfort  me."  So  there,  in  the  mother's 
room,  they  sat  down  together,  and  Cassia  told  him 
all.  John  had  an  evident  effort  to  control  himself ; 
he  was  compelled  often  to  relieve  the  tension  of  his 


100  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

feelings  by  walking  rapidly  to  and  fro.  But  he  com- 
forted and  counseled  his  sister,  and  promised  to  go 
into  Galveston  the  following  day,  and  talk  matters 
over  with  Raymund.  He  believed  that,  as  soon  as  his 
passion  was  past,  he  would  be  sorry  for  it,  and  rea- 
sonable under  friendly  advice. 

"  Only  the  grace  of  God  can  deliver  a  man  from 
his  ancestors,  Cassia,"  he  said.  "  The  soul  has  its 
malignant  diseases  as  well  as  the  body,  and  Raymund, 
for  the  time,  was  undoubtedly  '  possessed.'  You  will 
see  that  he  will  do  you  ample  justice  when  he  comes 
to  himself." 

John  rode  back  to  Briffault  with  his  sister.  They 
talked  together  until  she  was  calm  and  almost  cheer- 
ful ;  for,  though  the  faces  of  God's  children  be  fully 
set  Zionward,  it  does  help  them  in  any  perplexity  to 
ask  each  other  the  way  thitherward.  John  spent  the 
day  at  Briffault.  Raymund  did  not  return,  but 
Gloria  wandered  up  and  down  the  sweet,  shady  avenue 
with  him,  or  sang  to  him  in  the  parlor.  She  left  no 
art  untried  to  secure  her  captive  ;  she  bound  him  to 
her  with  ties  subtle  as  Satan  and  strong  as  life.  And 
madam  watched  her  from  her  window  exultingly. 
The  very  plenitude  of  John's  bliss  was  a  triumph  to 
her  ;  she  foresaw  in  it  the  depth  and  bitterness  of  his 
disappointment. 


THE  TERROR  BY  NIGHT 


CHAPTEE  IY. 
THE  TERROR  BY  NIGHT  AND  DAY. 

"  A  place 

Before  his  eyes  appeared,  sick,  noisome,  dark, 
A  lazar  house  it  seemed,  wherein  were  laid 
Numbers  of  those  diseased. 
Dire  was  the  tossing,  deep  the  groans ;  despair 
Tended  the  sick,  busy  from  couch  to  couch ; 
And  over  them  triumphant  Death,  his  dart 
Shook."— MILTON. 

WHEN  John  said  that  Kaymund  was  for  the  time 
"possessed,"  lie  was,  perhaps,  nearer  to  the 
truth  than  is  generally  recognized.  Nothing  is  more 
clearly  taught  in  the  Bible  than  the  doctrine  of  an- 
gelic and  demoniac  agencies.  "  Why,"  said  Peter  to 
Ananias,  "  hath  Satan  filled  thine  heart  ? "  It  is  cus- 
tomary for  even  good  Christians  to  shirk  so  terrible 
a  fact,  and  to  suppose  that  the  "  possessed,"  so  fre- 
quently named  in  the  gospels,  were  lunatics.  That 
they  were  not,  is  evident  from  Matthew  jv,  24,  where 
the  "  diseased,"  the  "  possessed,"  and  the  "  lunatic  " 
are  distinctly  and  separately  named.  And,  alas !  it  is 
common  enough  at  the  present  day  to  see  men  pos- 


I1.' 2  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

•  •  »       •  , 

sessed  by  the  demons  of  strong  drink,  or  lust,  or 
avarice,  or  anger;  they  are  not  sick,  they  are  not 
mad,  they  are  simply  in  the  power  of  the  devil,  "  led 
captive  by  him  at  his  will." 

On  this  night  he  drove  Raymund  Briffault  into 
Galveston.  He  reminded  him  of  "  Ratcliffe's,"  a 
noted  resort  for  deep  drinking  and  reckless  gambling. 
It  stood  some  distance  from  the  city — a  low,  weather- 
beaten  hut,  on  the  sea-shore ;  so  well  known  to  the 
class  that  used  its  sinful  shelter  as  to  need  nothing  to 
indicate  its  character.  One  of  the  Ratcliffes  had 
been  a  sailor  in  Burke  Briffault's  black  craft ;  and 
generation  after  generation  there  had  always  been 
some  intercourse  between  the  families.  Certainly,  if 
any  Briffault  needed  money,  it  was  to  Eatcliffe's 
cabin  they  repaired ;  and  between  Raymund  and  the 
present  proprietor  that  kind  of  friendship  existed, 
which  might  lie  dormant  for  years,  and  would  yet 
be  good  for  any  emergency. 

He  rode  hard  until  he  reached  the  ferry  connect- 
ing the  main-land  with  the  island.  It  was  then  gray 
dawn,  with  a  wretched  east  wind,  blowing  hot  and 
cold  and  wet  all  at  once.  It  did  not  rain,  but  he 
was  clammy  to  the  skin  when  he  touched  Galveston 
island.  The  gulfs  long  waves  broke  sullenly  upon 
the  beach,  and  through  the  marsh  grasses,  crusted 
with  salt,  and  through  the  rank  few  herbs,  the  home 


THE  TERROR  BY  NIGHT  AND  DAY.          103 

of  million  of  mosquitoes, lie  urged  his  staggering  horse. 
Ere  long  the  sun  rose,  red  and  fiery ;  the  sky  felt 
like  brass  above  him,  and,  though  it  was  so  early,  the 
rays  of  light  pierced  his  head  like  arrows.  He  was 
enduring  a  great  physical  agony,  and  yet  it  never 
entered  his  mind  to  say,  "  In  my  own  home  are  cool, 
shadowy  rooms  ;  in  my  own  home  peace  and  love  are 
waiting  for  me.  I  will  turn  back  to  its  comfort  and 
blessing." 

He  was  quite  exhausted  when  he  reached  RatcliftVs. 
The  sandy  beach  was  silent  and  absolutely  deserted; 
the  sea  like  a  sheet  of  lead,  dull  and  gray,  with  a  slow 
heaving  motion  ;  and  Ratcliffe's  house  was  as  quiet  as 
if  it  was  the  house  of  a  dead  man.  But  he  stood 
in  its  entrance,  and  when  he  saw  Raymund  he  went 
to  meet  him.  The  men  nodded  to  each  other,  but 
no  greeting  passed  between  them.  Raymund's  horse 
was  taken  to  a  shelter  at  the  side  of  the  hut,  and  he 
tottered  into  the  room  to  which  the  open  door  led. 
He  was  sitting  with  his  head  in  his  hands  when 
Rutcliffe  returned ;  and  when  the  latter  spoke,  he 
raised  it  and  gazed  vacantly  at  his  host.  Instantly 
Ratcliffe  seized  his  wrist  and  examined  his  face.  It 
was  vividly  scarlet,  his  eyes  like  bulls  of  fire,  his  pulse 
beating  at  the  wrist  with  that  peculiar  "  bound  "  that 
said  at  every  throb,  "  Yellow  fever  ! " 

"  Sacrista !  Briffuult,  you  have  the  fever  !  " 


104:  THE  LOST  SILVER  or  BRIFFAULT. 

"  I  suppose  so.     Can  you  give  me  a  bed  ? " 

"  Not  here  ;  you  would  die.  No  ice,  no  doctor  at 
hand,  and  the  place  is  as  hot  as  hell  for  a  well  man. 
Ducre's  buggy  is  in  the  shed ;  I  will  drive  you  to  the 
nearest  hotel." 

Raymund  did  not  answer.  He  was  suffering  fright- 
fully. Ratcliffe  opened  the  door  of  an  inner  room 
and  spoke  to  the  men  there.  There  were  four  of 
them  sitting  at  a  table  on  which  lay  a  pile  of  notes 
and  gold.  Two  were  shuffling  cards,  two  sat  silent, 
with  melancholy  eyes  fixed  upon  the  board.  Jftat- 
clilfe  spoke  to  one  of  these:  "Dacre,  I  want  your 
buggy.  Ray  Briffault  is  here,  down  with  the  fever; 
he  can't  ride  his  horse  a  step  farther." 

"  All  right." 

"  You'll  have  to  help  lift  him  in  ;  he's  past  help- 
ing himself." 

"  That  so?     Hold  on  a  minute,  Jennings." 

He  rose  and  followed  Ratcliffe,  and  the  two  men 
lifted  Raymund  into  the  buggy.  He  was  delirious 
when  he  reached  the  hotel,  muttering  rapidly,  in  a 
low,  awful  manner. 

"  How  are  you  going  to  let  his  friends  know  ? " 
asked  the  landlord. 

"I  am  going  to  Briffault  myself.  Send  for  a 
doctor,  and  get  a  good  nurse  at  any  price.  You  will 
be  well  paid  for  your  trouble." 


THE  TERROR  BY  NIGHT  AND  DAT.          105 

But  Ratcliffe  had  not  only  to  drive  home,  he  had 
business  affairs  of  importance  to  attend  to  there ;  and 
it  was  nearly  noon  ere  he  had  completed  his  arrange- 
ments. Then  the  heated,  feverish  atmosphere  was  so 
deadly,  that  he  dared  not  leave  for  some  hours,  so 
that  it  was  nearly  ten  o'clock  at  night  when  he 
reached  Briffault.  John  was  standing  on  the  veranda 
bidding  his  sister  and  Gloria  "good-night,"  when 
they  heard  the  gates  shut. 

"  That  must  be  Ray,"  said  Cassia. 

"  Then  I  will  wait  and  see  him." 

Rateliffe  rode  slowly,  and  before  his  figure  was 
visible,  Cassia  perceived  she  had  made  a  mistake. 

"  O,  John,  there  is  some  bad  news  coming !  I  feel 
it !  I  am  sure  of  it ! " 

Before  Ratcliffe  descended,  John  was  at  his  side. 

"  Have  yon  brought  news  of  Briffault  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Yes ;  bad  news.  He  has  the  fever,  and  is  very 
ill." 

"  Where  is  he  ? " 

"  I  took  him  to  the  hotel.  It  was  the  best  I  could 
do." 

"  I  will  go  back  with  you.  Come  in  and  refresh 
yourself.  What  will  you  have?" 

u  Strong  coffee.  Take  some  yourself,  it  is  the 
best  thing." 

Their  conversation  had  been  low  and  rapid,  and 


106      .     THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

had  only  occupied  the  few  moments  of  Ratcliffe's  de- 
scent, but  Cassia  was  at  their  side  when  they  turned. 

"  What  is  it,  John?  "  she  asked. 

"  Ray  has  yellow  fever.  I  am  going  back  with 
this  gentleman  to  nurse  him.  Let  us  have  some 
strong  coffee  first,  dear." 

"  Yellow  fever  /"  Gloria  had  caught  the  words, 
and  she  fled  like  a  deer,  with  the  news  to  madam. 
The  room  was,  as  usual,  in  a  blaze  of  light,  and 
madam  lying  on  a  couch  in  the  center  of  it. 

"  Ray  has  yellow  fever !  They  have  sent  for  some 
one  to  nurse  him.  He  is  very  ill.  O,  grandma, 
if  Ray  should  die !  " 

"  Yellow  fever  /"  shrieked  madam,  springing  up 
in  a  passion  af  terror  and  anger,  "How  dare  you 
come  into  this  room,  then  ?  Have  you  been  near  the 
man  ?  Order  him  off  the  place  instantly !  What 
an  outrage !  Souda,  get  some  camphor  and  burn  it. 
Go  away,  miss,  and  don't  come  near  me  again."  She 
was  trembling  with  fright,  and  gave  one  peremptory 
order  after  another,  for  the  clearance  and  disinfection 
of  the  house. 

In  the  mean  time  Cassia  was  hurriedly  putting 
together  a  few  necessary  articles.  She  was  deter- 
mined to  go  witli  John,  for  in  some  measure  she 
blamed  herself  for  Ray's  danger.  And  John  was  one 
of  those  men  who  respect  another's  conscience.  He 


THE  TERROR  BY  NIGHT  AND  DAY.          107 

thought  Cassia  was  to  be  trusted  entirely.  Though 
there  had  been  a  confidence  between  them  on  the 
subject  of  her  quarrel  with  Ray,  he  knew  that  people 
never  tell  quite  all,  and  the  thing  she  had  not  spoken 
of  might  be  a  sufficient  reason  for  her  self-sacrifice. 

An  hour  before  midnight  they  left  Briffault,  Kat- 
sliffe  riding  one  of  Hay's  horses,  John  and  Cassia  in 
the  buggy.  They  had  to  call  at  the  Preston  ranch, 
for  John  thought  it  likely  he  might  be  detained  some 
time  in  Galveston,  and  directions  for  such  an  emer- 
gency were  necessary.  But  after  this  short  detention 
they  pushed  rapidly  forward,  the  horseman  pacing 
silently  in  advance.  No  one  spoke.  The  night  was 
hot  and  damp  ;  they  were  riding  through  a  cloud  so 
dense  that  even  RatcliftVs  figure,  a  yard  or  two  be- 
fore them,  was  only  a  dimmer  blur  in  it.  The  in- 
sects were  tormenting,  and  the  frogs  made  such  an 
unceasing  din  that  human  conversation  was  impossi- 
ble. Black,  narrow  bayous  went  wriggling  through 
the  rotten,  mildewed  grasses,  and  frequently  delayed 
them,  for  the  tide  had  filled  their  muddy  channels, 
and  it  was  necessary  for  the  buggy  to  seek  higher 
crossings. 

Still,  long  before  dawn,  they  reached  the  plague- 
smitten  city.  Dense  clouds  hung  low  over  it ;  no 
moon,  no  star  was  visible,  but  through  the  profound 
gloom  it  gleamed  with  countless  lights,  for  the  watch- 


108  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

er's  candle  was  in  every  house.  The  hotel  to  which 
they  drove  was  ominously  illuminated.  As  soon  as 
Cassia  glanced  at  it  she  remembered  that  a  few  nights 
before  she  had  dreamed  of  the  vast,  shadowy  build- 
ing, with  its  numerous  windows  glowing  with  flamej 
and  she  knew  that  her  soul  had  apprehended  its  trial 
and  felt  the  shadow  of  calamity  ere  it  entered  it. 
The  door  stood  open,  but  the  entrance  was  deserted, 
and  Cassia  sat  down  on  one  of  the  empty  chairs  while 
John  looked  for  some  one  to  give  him  information. 

A  sister  of  charity,  passing  through  the  hall  with  a 
bowl  of  broken  ice  in  her  hand,  directed  him  to  Ray- 
mund's  room,  and,  taking  Cassia  by  the  hand,  they 
sought  it  together.  It  was  at  the  end  of  a  corridor 
full  of  awful  sights  and  sounds,  where  the  stillness 
of  the  sheeted  dead  alternated  with  the  anguish  of 
the  tortured  living.  From  two  of  the  rooms  the  last 
frightful  struggle  of  the  vomito  filled  the  house  with 
the  cries  of  intolerable  agony.  Cassia  trembled  and 
grasped  John's  hand.  He  looked  in  her  face  and 
said,  steadily :  " '  Yea,  though  I  walk  through  the 
valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil : 
for  thou  art  with  me ;  thy  rod  and  thy  staff  they  com- 
fort me.'  The  rod  as  well  as  the  staff,  remember 
that,  Cassia." 

As  he  said  the  words  he  opened  the  door  of  Ray- 
mund's  room,  and  the  miserable  man  lay  helpless  and 


THE  TERROR  BY  NIGHT  AND  DAY.          109 

unconscious  before  them.  A  sister  of  charity  had 
just  covered  his  head  with  broken  ice,  and  while  she 
murmured  above  him  the  litany  for  the  sick,  was  en- 
deavoring to  keep  away  from  the  restless  sufferer  the 
hosts  of  torturing  insects.  Cassia  kissed  her  and  said  : 
"  I  am  his  wife  ;  I  will  take  your  place  now.  May 
God  reward  you  ! " 

In  such  moments  good  souls  draw  close  together ; 
every  thing  is  forgotten  but  the  grand  fact  that  we 
are  all  the  children  of  the  Most  High.  "  The  Com- 
forter of  all  sorrowful  women  help  you,"  answered 
the  sister.  "  Do  not  despair.  At  the  last  moment  a 
good  change  may  come."  Then  she  gave  Cassia  mi- 
nute directions  for  the  case,  and  added  :  "  I  must  now 
go  elsewhere.  Three  rooms  away  there  is  a  young 
man  in  the  last  agony ;  it  is  terrible  to  die  without 
prayer  and  human  sympathy."  She  vanished  with 
the  words,  and  John  and  Cassia  stood  together  by 
Kaymund's  side.  He  did  not  recognize  them  ;  he 
did  not  hear  their  voices ;  he  was  wandering  alone  in 
a  land  afar  off,  where  the  pains  of  hell  had  got  hold 
of  him — in  "  a  land  of  deserts  and  of  pits,  in  a  land 
of  drought  and  of  the  shadow  of  death,  in  a  land 
that  no  man  passed  through,  and  where  no  man 
dwelt,"  and  into  which  lover  nor  friend  might  follow 
him.  Raving,  tossing,  muttering,  slowly  parching 
and  burning  up,  Raymund  lived  on  day  after  day, 


110  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

though  it  seemed  almost  certain  that  he  would  never 
more  recognize  the  sorrowing,  loving  wife  who  kept 
such  faithful  vigil  by  his  side. 

But  He  that  "turneth  man  to  destruction"  says 
also,  "  Return,  ye  children  of  men  ; "  and  the  voice  is 
as  mighty  to  save  now  as  when  it  stopped  the  funeral 
at  the  gates  of  Nam  and  opened  the  grave  of  Laz- 
arus. Slowly  Raymund  came  back  to  life — slowly 
and  fretfully.  In  the  extremity  of  his  physical 
weakness  he  thought  of  nothing  but  his  physical 
comfort.  John  watched  him  with  a  sad  thoughtful- 
ness.  He  remembered  solemn,  peaceful  hours,  when 
they  had  sat  together  and  Raymund  had  seemed  to 
really  enjoy  discussing  with  him  the  great  questions 
of  life  and  death  and  immortality.  True,  they  had 
never  agreed,  but  the  disagreement  had  been  a  re- 
flective and  gracious  one.  But,  neither  on  his  sick- 
bed nor  yet  in  the  long  hours  of  his  convalescence, 
would  Raymund  permit  such  subjects  to  be  named  to 
him.  "  I  am  tired ;  I  can't  think  ;  let  me  alone  ! '' 
Thus  he  put  aside  any  conversation  relating  to  the 
deliverance  he  had  experienced. 

"  What  a  master  passion  is  physical  pain ! "  «aid 
John  to  Cassia,  one  day,  when  Raymund  had  been 
peculiarly  fretful  and  impatient.  "  I  think  if  God 
ever  permits  me  to  preach  again,  I  will  never  say  a 
word  which  can  encourage  the  idea  of  a  death-bed 


THE  TERROR  BY  NIGHT  AND  DAT.  ^        111 

repentance.  When  men  are  suffering  they  wont, 
perhaps  they  can't,  think." 

"John,  I  would  not  say  that.  At  the  last  hour 
Christ  forgave  the  thief." 

"  Yes,  but  that  thief  had  not  been  refusing  his 
mercy  day  after  day  and  year  after  year.  As  soon 
as  his  soul  saw  the  Crucified  he  appealed  to  his  love. 
I  think  we  build  on  that  example  without  taking  all 
the  circumstances  into  consideration.  Cassia,  you 
must  not  trust  Raymund's  salvation  to  his  last  hours  ; 
seek  for  him  that  reasonable  and  honorable  service 
which  remembers  the  Creator  and  Saviour  in  the 
days  of  youth  and  health." 

But  John  soon  found  that  even  such  a  just  decision 
must  give  way  before  extremities  so  great  and  awful 
that  nothing  but  the  unlimited  mercy  of  the  cross 
could  lit  them.  Long  before  Raymund  was  able  to 
be  moved  all  possibility  of  escaping  from  the  city  was 
past.  Vessels  would  not  enter  her  harbor.  Fugi- 
tives from  her  were  not  allowed  to  approach  the  main- 
land ;  the  inhabitants  were  shut  up  with  the  pesti- 
lence. There  was  scarce  a  house  into  which  it  had 
not  entered.  The  regiment  of  Northern  soldiers, 
camped  on  the  desolate  sea- shore,  were  dying  by 
scores;  their  general,  their  officers,  their  doctors,  had 
fallen  early  in  the  epidemic  ;  and  most  of  the  sisters 
of  charity  had  died  at  their  posts  in  the  temporary 


THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

hospitals,  or  in  hotels  which  had  become  hospitals. 
The  associations  for  volunteer  nursing  were  quite  in- 
adequate to  the  demand,  and  when  Raymund's  doc- 
tor said,  one  night,  in  John's  presence,  "  Every  nurse 
is  worth  ten  lives,"  John  answered,  promptly,  "  I  am 
ready  to  do  my  best — ready  now." 

They  went  out  together  to  a  large  building.  It 
had  been,  in  former  days,  a  splendid  residence  ;  it  was 
then  a  shelter  for  the  friendless  and  homeless  sick. 
On  cots  or  on  pallets  on  the  floor — twenty,  thirty  in 
a  room — men  and  women  lay  in  inconceivable  ago- 
nies. But  the  horrors  of  the  place  had  not  deterred 
that  noble  human  kindness  which,  in  such  times,  links 
humanity  with  divinity.  Two  or  three  physicians, 
scarce  able  to  keep  awake  in  their  exhaustion,  were 
passing  up  and  down  the  aisles  of  misery  ;  men  were 
tenderly  bending  over  the  dying,  and  even  holding 
them  in  their  arms.  u  Water!  water!  water!"  was 
the  agonized  entreaty  penetrating  every  corner  of  the 
building.  John  hastened  to  satisfy  it,  and  it  was  in 
such  moments,  as  he  caught  the  speechless  gratitude 
from  dying  eyes,  that  he  forgot  every  thing  but  the 
immeasurable  sufficiency  of  the  cross  of  Christ.  At 
the  last  moment  of  the  last  hour  he  lifted  it  up :  "  It 
is  as  wide  as  the  world,  it  is  as  long  as  time,  it 
reaches  up  to  the  bosom  of  the  Father,  it  reaches 
down,  down,  down,  to  a  depth  passing  knowledge. 


THE  TERKOR  BY  NIQHT  AND  DAY.          113 

Cling  to  it !  Cling  to  it !  "  he  cried.  "  Xo  one  was 
ever  lost  that  clasped  the  cross  !  " 

From  pallet  to  pallet  he  passed  with  the  precious 
hope  and  the  precious  water.  In  that  supreme  hour 
every  creed  met  and  clasped  hands.  As  he  was  talk- 
ing thus  to  a  dying  soldier  a  sister  of  charity  knelt 
by  a  young  girl  in  the  last  struggle.  Before  her 
glazing  eyes  she  lifted  her  crucifix,  reciting  in  clear, 
sweet  tones,  portions  from  the  Litany  for  the  Dying : 

"  "  Come  to  her  assistance,  all  ye  angels  of  the 
Lord.  Receive  her  soul. 

"  '  May  Christ,  who  called  her,  receive  her ! 

"  '  Eternal  rest  grant  her,  O  Christ! 

"  '  From  the  gates  of  hell  deliver  her  soul,  O  Christ ! 

"  '  Lord,  have  mercy  upon  her ! 

"  'Christ,  have  mercy  upon  her!  ' 

"  Christ,  have  mercy  upon  lier,"  responded  John, 
and  he  held  the  girl  in  the  closing  agony,  echoing, 
with  all  his  soul,  the  solemn  litany  of  the  sister.  In 
such  scenes  as  these  John  understood  the  lesson  of 
the  thief  dying  on  the  cross ;  understood  how  many 
would  not  come  to  Christ  till  they  had  been  nailed 
to  some  bitter  cross,  and  made  to  look  on  him,  and 
driven  at  last  to  call  on  him,  with  trembling  and  with 
tears ;  and  how  then,  Christ,  looking  down  in  love, 
upbraiding  not,  promised  them  the  kingdom. 

John  had  long  been  a  local  preacher;  it  had  been  a 
8 


114  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BEIFFAITLT. 

matter  of  duty  and  conscience  with  him  to  secure  the 
right  to  speak  a  word  in  season,  when  the  season 
came;  but  at  this  time  he  first  heard  that  divine 
"call"  which  comes  to  no  man  with  an  uncertain 
sound.  John  Wesley's  charge  flashed  across  his 
mind :  "  Go  not  only  where  you  are  needed,  but  where 
you  are  needed  most ; "  and  he  answered,  joyfully,  "  I 
will,  Lord." 

"  And  as  he  prajred  he  was  aware 
That  some  great  Light  was  risen  on  him ; 
And  looking  upward  in  his  prayer, 
He  saw  the  door  was  opened  wide, 
And  One  was  standing  at  his  side 
It  thrilled  his  heart  to  see." 

For  three  months  this  life  continued.  Men  and 
women  dwelt  at  the  mouth  of  the  grave.  The  terror 
by  night,  the  pestilence  that  walked  in  darkness,  the 
destruction  that  wasted  at  noonday,  was  their  com- 
panion and  their  conversation.  The  invisible  world 
drew  strangely  near  to  the  visible  ;  every  one  talked 
with  bated  breath  of  things  supernatural.  It  was  an 
atmosphere  in  which  the  solemn  and  thoughtful  grew 
spiritual,  but  which  offended  and  angered  natures  of 
clayey  mold.  Raymond  grew  scornful  in  it,  moped 
and  wearied,  and  watched  eagerly  for  the  atmos- 
pheric changes  which  would  release  the  imprisoned 
city. 


THE  TERROR  BY  NIGHT  AND  DAY.         115 

Not  one  word  from  Briffault  had  reached  them. 
Postal  service  had  been  stopped  soon  after  their  ar- 
rival, and  other  intercourse  rendered  almost  impossi- 
ble. For  the  fever  had  spread  to  all  the  small  gulf 
towns,  and  even  some  distance  inland,  and  Briffault 
was  quite  within  its  radius.  So  Raymund  speculated 
on  the  probabilities  of  its  invading  the  lonely  man- 
sion, and  fretted  considerably  about  his  sister  and 
madam,  both  of  whom  he  loved  much,  after  his  own 
fashion. 

Had  he  known  it,  Gloria  was  having  what  she  con- 
sidered the  very  happiest  period  of  her  life.  Events 
at  Briffault  had  not  only  made  her  mistress  of  her 
own  time,  but  also  filled  the  long  hot  days  with 
supreme  pleasure  to  her.  In  the  first  place,  she  was 
not  sorry  to  get  rid  of  Cassia.  Her  order,  neatness, 
methodical  life,  and  general  serenity,  irritated  and 
made  her  uncomfortable.  She  liked  occasional  quar- 
rels ;  she  not  only  felt  that  she  could  appear  to  ad- 
vantage in  them,  but  that  she  had  within  her  the 
ability  to  direct  them  for  her  own  advantage.  Dur- 
ing that  unfortunate  one,  which  had  driven  Raymund 
into  Galveston,  she  had  wratched  her  grandmother 
with  admiration  and  Cassia  with  contempt.  If  Ray- 
mund should  ever  indulge  himself  in  a  like  manner 
again,  she  was  almost  certain  she  would  be  able  to 
astonish,  very  likely  to  control,  him. 


116  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

She  had  not  much  fear  of  Raymund  dying,  for  she 
never  admitted  the  possibility  of  any  thing  unpleas- 
ant happening,  until  the  fact  was  forced  upon  her. 
Still  she  was  not  averse  to  seeing  madam  thoroughly 
frightened.  It  was  just  as  well  for  every  one  that 
the  house  should  be  attended  to,  and  made  as  safe  as 
possible.  She  liked  to  follow  Souda  from  room  to 
room,  and  inhale  the  burning  gums  and  sprinkled 
camphor.  She  liked  to  visit  the  kitchen,  and  cabins, 
and  carry  madam  little  items  of  exciting  news.  She 
had  not  a  particle  of  fear  herself,  and  she  despised 
those  who  had  fear;  but  it  was  pleasanter  to  play 
upon  this  household  string  than  to  sit  by  madam's 
side,  and  draw  threads  out  of  linen,  and  listen  to  her 
reminiscences.  Even  if  cheap  novels  had  existed  in 
those  days,  and  Gloria  had  possessed  a  library  of 
them,  she  would  not  have  cut  a  leaf.  To  waste  pre- 
cious time  over  the  delirious  scenes  of  Ouida  or  Zola, 
was  a  kind  of  passive  sin,  not  in  consonance  with 
Gloria's  nature.  She  liked  to  be  busy  in  her  wrong- 
doing— busy  with  hands  and  feet,  eyes  and  tongue. 

About  three  weeks  after  Cassia  left  Briffault  for 
Galveston  madam  became  very  ill.  For  two  weeks 
she  had  had  a  headache,  and  an  excessive,  yet  rest- 
less, languor.  She  had  watched  herself  continually, 
but  the  distinctive  symptoms  of  yellow  fever  were 
svanting. 


THE  TERROR  BY  NIGHT  AND  DAY.    117 

u  It  is  malaria,  of  course,"  she  said,  positively,  to 
Souda ;  "  Give  me  the  quinine  bottle." 

Every  day,  however,  the  malaria  grew  worse ;  she 
fought  it  desperately ;  she  would  not  lie  down,  she 
went  from  room  to  room,  and  tried  to  interest  herself 
in  all  that  was  done.  But  one  morning  she  was  found 
prostrate  and  unconscious.  Typhus,  of  the  most  viru- 
lent form,  had  seized  her ;  the  doctor  insisted  on  the 
strict  isolation  of  his  patient,  and  Gloria  was  left  en- 
tirely to  her  own  devices. 

She  took  up  her  abode  in  a  room  at  the  opposite 
side  of  the  house  to  madam's ;  she  had  the  blinds 
flung  wide,  and  she  let  the  sunshine  penetrate  every 
corner  of  it.  The  windows  were  filled  with  flowers, 
and  a  couple  of  specially  comfortable  chairs  brought 
from  the  parlor  for  her  use.  In  this  room,  she  gave 
orders,  all  her  meals  were  to  be  served.  The  serv- 
ants arranged  their  lives  as  satisfactorily  to  them- 
selves in  their  cabins  as  Gloria  in  her  selected  apart- 
ment, and  Souda  and  madam  kept  their  vigil  of  suf- 
fering and  seclusion,  without  any  sympathy  or  inter- 
ference. 

For  a  day  or  two  the  sense  of  complete  unrestraint 
was  delicious  to  the  self-willed  girl.  She  ordered  all 
the  delicacies  she  liked  best ;  she  ate  and  drank,  and 
sunned  herself,  and  dressed  herself,  and  took  her 
sleep,  usual  and  extra,  with  all  the  complaisant  satis- 


118  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRTFFAULT. 

faction  of  a  petted  kitten.  Then  she  began  to  think 
of  amusing  herself.  But  how  ?  She  loved  bright, 
rapid,  tinkling  music,  and  her  supple  fingers  made 
it  admirably,  but  she  could  not  play  the  piano  while 
madam  was  ill.  She  tried  her  lace  work,  it  tired 
her  eyes ;  she  tried  a  book,  it  bored  her ;  she  went 
into  the  kitchen,  the  servants  had  a  little  company  of 
their  own,  and  they  did  not  want  Miss  Gloria. 

However,  she  had  a  good  store  of  that  physical  fe- 
licity which  springs  from  a  brisk  and  healthy  circula- 
tion. The  sunshine  was  a  joy,  and  she  could  feel  a 
certain  satisfaction  in  her  own  gay,  light  movements 
in  it.  As  no  one  cared  for  her  company  she  strolled 
down  the  avenue.  She  watched  the  birds  flitting 
through  their  green  palaces,  and  the  brilliant  lizards 
basking  in  the  warmth,  and  the  sun  making  pretty 
patches  of  shadow  leaves  on  her  white  mull  dress. 
At  the  iron  gates  she  stood  a  moment  looking  into 
the  road.  It  was  so  seldom  any  one  passed,  that  she 
had  no  curiosity,  and  no  expectation  in  the  long  gaze 
she  sent  down  it.  But  no  moment  of  a  day  is  safe 
unless  it  has  been  put  into  God's  keeping.  A  horse- 
man was  really  approaching,  riding  slowly,  and  sing- 
ing some  rollicking  ditty  that  chimed  in  with  the 
"  trop-a-ty,  trop-a-ty  "  of  his  horse's  feet.  He  was  in 
the  fatigue  dress  of  a  cavalry  officer,  and,  even  at  a 
distance,  had  an  air  of  "  dash  "  that  was  attractive. 


THE  TERROR  BY  NIGHT  AND  DAY.          119 

"  He  must  be  coming  here,"  thought  Gloria ;  and 
the  prospect  of  such  a  visitor  made  her  eyes  flash 
with  pleasure.  She  strolled  slowly  toward  the  house, 
and  it  was  not  long  ere  she  was  overtaken. 

"  Captain  Grady,"  said  the  officer,  lifting  his  cap. 

"  Miss  Briffault,"  answered  Gloria,  with  one  of 
those  graceful  womanly  courtesies,  that  have,  unfor- 
tunately, gone  out  of  fashion. 

Then  Captain  Grady  and  Miss  Briffault  entered  at 
once  into  conversation.  The  captain  had  heard  that 
Raymund  had  a  pair  of  fine  horses  for  sale,  and  he 
wished  to  buy  before  going  to  his  western  post. 
The  explanations  that  followed,  with  much  incidental 
conversation,  passed  an  hour  in  the  shady  avenue  with 
great  satisfaction.  Then  it  was  too  hot  to  ride,  and 
refreshments  were  offered,  and  Gloria  played  the 
hostess  charmingly.  No  beings  in  all  the  world  are 
so  utterly,  cruelly  selfish  as  two  young  people  desir- 
ing to  please  each  other,  and  who  are  uncontrolled  by 
either  religious  feelings  or  any  particular  sense  of 
duty.  On  that  hot,  languorous,  dreamy  summer 
day,  what  was  it  to  Denis  Grady  and  Gloria  Briffault, 
that  a  desolate,  hopeless  soul  was  suffering  the  terrors 
of  death  and  the  torments  of  fever  in  a  room  above 
them  ?  Did  Gloria  give  one  thought  to  the  brother 
who  had  always  petted  and  loved  her,  and  who  was, 
if  still  alive,  in  suffering  and  distress?  Certainly 


120  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

not !  She  was  thinking  only  of  delicacies  for  her 
guest,  of  setting  the  table  elegantly,  of  what  dress 
she  looked  best  in,  of  Captain  Grady's  handsome 
figure  and  dashing  manner,  and  of  his  delightful 
way  of  complimenting  her. 

The  captain  saw  that  he  had  made  a  conquest,  and 
he  was  well  inclined  to  secure  it.  Gloria  appeared 
to  him  a  very  bewitching  girl ;  and  the  fabulous 
amount  of  her  grandmother's  wealth  was  a  standard 
piece  of  local  gossip.  No  one  was  long  in  the  neigh- 
borhood without  hearing  it.  The  previous  night  a 
planter,  with  whom  he  had  stayed,  had  advised  him 
"  to  look  after  the  little  girl.  She  will  get  all  the 
madam  has  saved,  and  that  must  be  considerable  of  a 
pile,"  he  said.  So,  as  Raymund  was  generally  known 
to  be  at  Galveston,  it  was  most  likely  the  pretty, 
lonely  heiress,  rather  than  the  pair  of  cavalry  horses, 
that  led  Captain  Grady  to  visit  Briffault. 

In  the  cool  of  the  evening  he  left,  and  Gloria 
walked  down  the  avenue  with  him,  as  she  had  so 
often  walked  with  John  Preston.  She  looked  so 
lovely  in  a  dress  of  pink  tissue,  with  broad  bands  of 
silver  gauze  in  it,  that  the  captain  thought  she  was 
worth  "looking  after,"  independent  of  madam's 
hoard.  He  wooed  her  as,  perhaps,  only  an  Irishman 
and  a  soldier  can  woo — as  if  the  world  held  no  other 
woman,  as  if  her  smile  was  more  than  life,  and  her 


THE  TERROR  BY  NIGHT  AND  DAY.          121 

pleasure  the  end  of  existence.  Gloria  believed  it  all. 
Denis  Grady  was  the  kind  of  lover  she  had  read 
about.  John  had  never  called  her  "queen"  and 
"  goddess,"  and  vowed  to  shoot  himself  if  she  did 
not  give  him  one  smile.  The  spider  spun  his  web  in 
the  sight  of  the  fly,  and  the  silly  creature  believed  all 
its  cruel  chambers  to  be  for  her  special  glory  and 
delight. 

For  several  weeks  there  was  no  one  to  interfere 
with  her  interviews  with  Captain  Grady.  Into  the 
mysteries  of  madam's  chamber  of  suffering  only 
Souda  penetrated.  She  said  madam  was  going  to 
get  better,  and  she  said  it  half-resentfully.  Undoubt- 
edly, to  the  weary  and  waiting  maid,  it  did  seem 
unreasonable  for  a  woman  so  old  to  cling  to  life. 
Souda  was  watching  the  furniture  and  dresses  she  had 
been  promised.  Others,  besides  Souda,  have  resented 
the  lengthening  out  of  lives  beyond  the  three-score 
and  ten.  From  Souda  Gloria  had  been  careful  to 
preserve  her  secret.  She  feared  none  of  the  other 
servants ;  it  was  scarcely  necessary  to  buy  their  pas- 
sive co-operation ;  for  if  they  were  aiding  in  deceiv- 
ing madam  and  Souda,  they  thought  that  a  sufficient 
satisfaction. 

It  was  thus  that  Gloria  spent  the  summer,  so  full  of 
misery  to  her  grandmother  and  brother,  to  John  and 
to  Cassia.  Before  it  was  over  she  was  completely 


122  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

under  Denis  Grady's  influence.  She  had  told  him 
every  thing  she  knew.  She  had  promised  to  be  his 
wife,  either  with  or  without  the  consent  of  her 
friends.  No  information  she  had  given  Denis  had 
been  more  pleasant  to  him  than  that  concerning  the 
jewels  madam  had  laid  aside  for  her  bridal  present. 
He  thought  about  them  until  he  felt  they  were  his 
own.  He  speculated  as  to  the  sum  they  would  bring ; 
he  had  arranged  half  a  dozen  ways  of  spending  the 
proceeds  from  them. 

Early  in  September  madam  was  convalescent. 
Nine  weeks  of  fever  and  helpless  prostration  she  had 
lived  through.  She  was  very  weak,  but  "  The  old 
life  is  in  me,"  she  said,  snappishly,  to  Souda,  "and  I 
have  taken  a  new  lease  of  it."  Still  Gloria  was  al- 
most terrified  when  she  first  saw  her.  The  fever  had 
burned  her  to  skin  and  bone,  and  she  could  hardly 
lift  a  finger  of  her  hands.  But  her  eyes  were  blacker 
than  ever,  and  had  a  double  measure  of  the  old  re- 
sentful "  glow  "  in  them.  Gloria  was  naturally  de- 
ceitful, and  she  had  at  this  time  a  paramount  reason 
for  being  so.  She  wept  over  the  old  lady,  and  fondly 
kissed  her  white  mouth  and  sunken  temples. 

"  I  thought  I  never  should  see  you  again,  grand- 
ma ;  I  have  been  miserable  about  you !  O  dear,  what 
a  dreadful  time  it  has  been !  " 

And  self-deception  is  such  an  easy  thing !     Gloria 


THE  TERROR  BY  NIGHT  AND  DAY.  123 

half  imagined  she  was  sincere.  It  was  so  much  nicer 
to  imagine  it,  and  so  much  easier  to  say  nice  things 
when  she  did  so.  And  madam  craved  human  sympa- 
thy so  much,  that  she  was  glad  to  believe  her.  For, 
when  one  returns  from  the  grave's  mouth,  the  sight 
of  dear  familiar  faces  and  the  sound  of  tender  words 
are  so  sweet.  No  wonder  madam  looked  lovingly  on 
the  bright,  handsome,  apparently  affectionate  girl. 

"  Come  to  me  often,"  she  whispered,  "  Souda  has 
been  very  bad  to  me.  I  have  no  one  but  you,  Gloria. 
I  will  pay  you,  dear ;  I  will  pay  you  well." 

Ah,  it  was  pitiful  for  a  woman  so  old  to  feel  that, 
after  all,  payment  might  be  necessary !  Madam  had 
come  to  an  hour  in  which  her  hoarded  gems  were 
valueless,  save  to  buy  a  little  love,  a  little  human 
sympathy,  with.  She  had  a  sad  and  angry  complaint 
to  make. 

"  Souda  wanted  me  to  die.  She  tortured  me  with 
thirst.  I  was  at  her  mercy,  and  she  showed  me  none. 
She  went  to  sleep  and  left  me  alone,  and  O,  Glo- 
ria, I  saw  such  sights ! "  she  whispered,  shudder- 
ing at  the  memory.  "  I  was  crazy  with  fever,  of 
course ;  but  why  did  the  evil  ones  come  to  me  then  ? 
Child,  be  good !  Be  good !  I  have  lost  the  road  ;  I 
left  it  so  many,  many  years  ago,  I  never  could  find 
it  again,  even  if  I  tried  to.  But  you  are  still  within 
the  call  of  your  good  angel.  Keinernber  what  you 


124:  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

learned  from  the  sisters.     We  wont  laugh  at  John 
Preston  again ;  perhaps  you  had  better  marry  him." 

"  O  grandma,  I  can't  do  that.  I  promised  you  I 
never  would.  I  don't  like  John  any  more,  and  I  do 
like  some  one  else  very  much.  I  want  to  tell  you 
about  him." 

It  had  suddenly  appeared  to  Gloria  the  best  thing 
to  do;  and  she  related  such  parts  of  her  expe- 
rience with  Captain  Grady  as  were  most  propitia- 
tory and  pleasant.  Madam  listened  with  interest, 
and  yet  with  a  pang.  She  perceived  that  Gloria  had 
not  been  as  miserable  as  she  had  represented  herself. 
She  understood  that  the  lovers  had  very  likely  looked 
upon  her  illness  as  not  unfortunate  to  themselves. 
In  her  weak  condition  she  could  scarcely  keep  the 
despairing  tears  out  of  her  sad,  black  eyes.  She  felt, 
for  a  moment,  that  it  was  a  pity  she  had  come  back 
to  a  world  in  which  she  was  so  little  wanted ;  for  it 
was  evident  to  her  that  Gloria  had  been  fully  and 
happily  occupied  with  her  new  lover,  even  while  she 
lay  at  death's  door. 

But  she  kept  her  hard  thoughts  to  herself.  Her 
isolation  frightened  her.  Raymund  might  be  dead ; 
if  she  quarreled  with  Gloria,  she  would  have  nobody 
left.  She  decided,  in  a  moment,  that  it  would  be 
better,  if  it  was  possible,  to  make  a  friend  of  Denis. 
She  invited  him  to  her  room  and  was  pleased  with 


THE  TEKROK  BY  NIGHT  AND  DAY.          125 

him.  In  a  couple  of  weeks  he  had  quite  won  her 
good-will  and  her  admiration.  His  reckless,  jovial 
way,  his  fine  appearance,  his  suave  manners,  even  his 
becoming  uniform,  made  a  favorable  impression  on 
the  old  lady.  She  put  herself  in  Gloria's  place,  and 
partly  excused  the  girl's  infatuation. 

The  marriage  was  frequently  spoken  of  in  madam's 
presence.  She  was  more  childish  since  her  sickness, 
and  she  found  a  great  delight  in  opening  up  her 
treasures  of  silk  and  lace  for  the  bridal  garments. 
The  subject  of  the  jewels  was  re-opened,  and  madam 
was  foolish  enough  to  show  Denis  the  portion  she 
had  laid  aside  for  her  grandchild.  He  knew  their 
value  well.  He  considered  within  himself  how  many 
months  of  such  a  life  as  he  loved  was  in  them.  He 
reflected,  also,  that  if  madam  was  willing  to  give  such 
magnificent  bridal  gifts,  Gloria's  future  portion  in 
gold  would  be  of  proportionable  value.  So  all  went 
happy  as  a  marriage  bell  for  the  lovers  during  the  lat- 
ter part  of  September  and  the  first  weeks  in  October. 

About  the  middle  of  October  there  was  a  storm 
which  shook  Galveston  island  to  its  foundations.  The 
waters  of  the  bay  and  the  gulf  met  in  its  center. 
There  was  a  roaring,  hurtling  tempest  around  it,  and 
a  tremendous  battle  in  the  firmament  above  it.  It 
was  "  a  day  of  wasteness  and  desolation,  a  day  of  dark- 
ness and  gloominess,  a  day  of  clouds  and  of  thick 


126  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

darkness,"  and  throughout  its  hours  the  storm  gath- 
ered strength.  All  night  the  inhabitants  sat  still  in 
terror,  while  the  sea  beat  at  their  doors  and  their  houses 
rocked  in  the  terrific  wind.  Raymund  was  speech- 
less, Cassia  kept  the  vigil  on  her  knees ;  but  John's 
soul  was  uplifted  in  a  solemn,  almost  in  a  triumph- 
ant, adoration.  After  midnight,  when  the  beating 
and  crashing  and  fury  of  the  elements  were  at  their 
height,  they  heard  him,  as  he  stood  at  the  window, 
or  walked  slowly  about  the  room,  saying : 

" '  Before  him  went  the  pestilence,  and  burning 
coals  went  forth  at  his  feet.  He  stood,  and  measured 
the  earth.  .  .  .  The  everlasting  mountains  were  scat- 
tered, the  perpetual  hills  did  bow.  ...  I  saw  the  tents 
of  Cushan  in  affliction.  .  .  .  Was  thy  wrath  against  the 
sea,  that  thou  didst  ride  upon  thine  horses  and  thy 
chariots  of  salvation  ?  .  .  .  The  overflowing  of  the 
water  passed  by :  the  deep  uttered  his  voice,  and  lifted 
up  his  hands  on  high.  The  sun  and  moon  stood  still 
in  their  habitation  :  at  the  light  of  thine  arrows  they 
went,  and  at  the  shining  of  thy  glittering  spear.  .  .  . 
Thou  wentest  forth  for  the  salvation  of  thy  people  ! ' ' 

"  How  terrible  is  this  night,"  said  Cassia.  "  O  that 
the  day  would  come  !  I  am  afraid,  John." 

"  There  is  nothing  more  to  fear  now.  The  Lord 
has  arisen  for  the  relief  of  the  city.  His  angels  are 
driving  away  the  powers  of  darkness  that  have  been 


THE  TERROR  BY  NIGHT  AND  DAY.          127 

permitted  here  for  a  season.  O,  if  our  eyes  were  now 
opened  !  If  we  could  but  see  the  battle  in  the  firma- 
ment above  us  !  See  '  the  man  Gabriel,'  or  *  Michael, 
the  great  prince  which  standeth  for  the  children  of 
thy  people  against  the  evil  ones  ; '  then  we  should  say, 
as  Elisha  said  to  his  servant,  '  Fear  not :  for  they  that 
be  with  us  are  more  than  they  that  be  with  them.' " 

As  the  dawn  broke  the  tempest  lulled  off  with 
mighty  sobbing  winds ;  sullenly  but  surely  it  went, 
and  with  it  departed  every  trace  of  the  dreadful  pes- 
tilence. The  next  day  the  people  arose,  as  one  man, 
to  build  up,  and  to  repair,  and  to  put  out  of  sight  and 
memory  the  traces  of  their  great  calamity.  Then 
Raymund  and  Cassia  and  John  turned,  with  grateful 
hearts,  homeward. 

They  reached  JBriffault  about  five  o'clock  in  the  af- 
ternoon. "  There  has  been  no  trouble  here,  I  think," 
said  Raymund,  for  he  noticed  that  the  avenue  was 
clean  and  well-kept,  and  that  in  Gloria's  hammock  a 
handful  of  fresh  tuberoses  and  a  piece  of  lace  work 
were  lying.  The  house  was  open ;  there  were  fresh 
flowers  in  the  stands.  "  All  is  evidently  well  at 
Briffault,"  he  repeated  to  Cassia  ;  then,  turning  to 
John,  he  added  :  "  Come  in,  John  ;  how  good  it  is  to 
be  at  home  again."  He  spoke  happily  to  the  man 
who  came  forward  to  attend  to  their  horses,  and 
asked,  "  All  well,  Alick  ?  " 


128  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

"  Yes,  sa' ;  yes,  sa' ;  all  well  now.  Madam  has  been 
sick,  but  she's  dune  got  well  now,  sa'." 

"  O  !  "  Raymund  did  not  attach  much  importance 
to  the  news.  Cassia  had  gone  to  her  room,  and  he 
followed  her  with  a  light  heart.  What  dreadful  days 
had  passed  since,  in  his  blind  passion,  he  left  his 
home  !  He  remembered  the  whole  affair  as  he  en- 
tered it,  but  it  was  a  thought  which  he  put  instantly 
away.  Cassia  had  suffered  for  changes  of  clothing  in 
Galveston  ;  she  was  happy  to  get  back  to  her  ward- 
robe, and  was  turning  over  her  plentiful  store  of 
snowy  linens  and  lawns  when  Raymund  entered. 
Her  happy  look  pleased  him. 

"  No  place  like  home,  is  there,  wife  ? "  he  asked. 

"  No  place  like  home,  Ray.  Briffault  is  beautiful 
to-day." 

Then  he  kissed  her,  and  at  that  moment  he  was 
really  sorry  for  his  fault,  but  he  did  not  say  so.  In 
actual  life  people  who  confess  their  faults  and  atone 
for  them  are  much  rarer  than  in  print. 

"  I  will  go  now  and  see  madam,"  he  said.  "  Alick 
says  she  has  been  sick.  I  suppose  Gloria  is  with  her." 

Madam's  room  was  on  the  east  side  of  the  house  ; 
all  its  windows  looked  east  and  north.  But  she  had 
heard  the  stir  of  the  arrival,  and  connected  it  with  its 
proper  source. 

"  Sit  still,  children,"  she  said  to  Denis  and  Gloria, 


THE  TERROR  BY  NIGHT  AND  DAY.          129 

who  were  taking  tea  with  her.  "  Sit  still ;  Raymund 
is  sure  to  come  here,  and  I  prefer  to  introduce  Denis 
myself.  It  has  happened  very  well,  I  think." 

But  Raymund  did  not  think  it  very  well.  He  re- 
ceived the  introduction  haughtily,  drew  himself  away 
from  Gloria's  caress,  and,  after  a  few  words  of  stinted 
courtesy,  withdrew.  And  as  Raymund,  like  madam, 
had  the  ability  to  make  himself  uncomfortably  felt  in 
every  room  of  the  house,  if  he  wished  to  do  so,  Cap- 
tain Grady  left  much  earlier  than  his  wont. 

When  he  came  down  stairs  Gloria  came  with  him. 
John  was  sitting  on  the  veranda,  and  she  went  for- 
ward, with  her  pretty  demonstrative  manner,  and 
spoke  to  him.  John  took  her  hands,  and  looked 
gravely  and  inquiringly  in  her  face.  The  look 
troubled  her,  and  she  pirouetted  round  and  said : 

"  Come  here,  Captain  Grady.  This  is  Colonel 
John  Preston,  of  the  late  C.  S.  A." 

Captain  Grady  came  forward  with  a  laugh — he 
was  always  laughing — and  Gloria  wanted  to  make 
John  laugh,  also.  She  thought  it  ill-natured  in  him 
not  to  do  so. 

She  was  just  going  to  descend  the  steps  with  Cap- 
tain Grady  when  Raymund  appeared. 

"  Captain  Grady  will  excuse  your  company,  Glo- 
ria," he  said,  positively.  "  The  dew  is  falling." 

"  There  is  not  a  drop  of  dew,  Raymund." 
9 


130  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

"  Still  Captain  Grady  will  excuse  you." 

He  had  placed  himself  by  her  side,  and  lightly 
clasped  her  arm ;  but  Gloria  knew  how  readily  the 
clasp  could  tighten,  if  necessary.  She  turned  her 
pretty  face,  in  a  blaze  of  anger,  toward  him : 

"  You  are  just  as  ill-natured  as  ever,  Ray." 

"  And  you  are  just  as  silly  and  as  false,  you  little 
traitor !  "  Then,  as  soon  as  Captain  Grady  was  far 
enough  away,  he 'removed  his  hand  and  said:  "Go 
and  make  your  peace  with  John.  If  I  were  he  I 
would  never  forgive  you  !  Never  ! " 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  remained  standing 
against  one  of  the  pillars  of  the  veranda.  Ray  left 
her  thus,  and  John  rose  and  went  to  her.  It  was  a 
foolish  concession.  She  perceived  she  had  John  in 
her  power,  and  she  determined  to  spare  him  no 
trouble  she  could  give.  He  spoke  to  her  several 
times,  and  she  took  no  notice  at  all  of  his  presence  ; 
but  when  he  turned  away  from  her  she  recalled  him 
with,  "  What  do  you  want,  John  ? " 

"  What  does  a  lover  want  from  the  girl  who  has 
promised  to  be  his  wife  ?  I  want  a  word  of  welcome, 
Gloria — a  smile  such  as  you  used  to  give  me." 

"  Did  I  promise  to  be  your  wife  ?" 

"  You  know,  Gloria." 

"  I  had  forgotten.  I  am  going  to  marry  Captain 
Grady." 


THE  TERROR  BY  NIGHT  AND  DAY.          131 

"  You  said  you  loved  me.  O,  Gloria  !  you  said  you 
loved  none  but  me  1  Did  you  lie  to  me  then  ?  No, 
you  could  not  be  so  wicked,  so  cruel." 

"  If  I  said  that,  of  course,  I  was  only  in  fun." 

She  looked  so  mocking,  so  tantalizing,  so  beauti- 
ful, that  John,  in  his  grief  and  wonder,  could  only 
gaze  on  the  heartless  girl.  She  was  pulling  his 
heart  to  pieces,  as  coolly  as  she  was  pulling  the  petals 
of  the  tuberose  in  her  hand.  She  would  not  lift  her 
eyes;  but  John  felt  there  was  neither  love  nor 
pity  in  them.  For  a  minute  they  stood  thus,  then 
John  said : 

"Gloria." 

Something  in  the  tone  mastered  her,  and  she  looked 
into  his  face.  It  was  a  very  handsome  face,  and  a  very 
tender  one ;  but  the  steel-gray  eyes  were  full  of  grief 
and  anger. 

"  Gloria !  you  have  done  a  wicked  and  unwom- 
anly thing.  There  are  few  good  men  who  would 
not  scorn  you  for  it ;  but  I  loved  you,  knowing  right 
well,  from  the  first,  how  perverse  and  selfish  you 
were.  I  loved  you  with  all  your  faults.  I  shall 
always  love  you.  You  can  go  nowhere  my  love  will 
not  follow  you.  Some  day,  some  day,  perhaps,  I 
may  be  able  to  do  you  good — farewell,  darling! 
God  forgive  you!  God  bless  you,  Gloria,  wherever 
you  go ! " 


132  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

True  emotion  is  infectious.  At  the  last  moment 
she  was  troubled  at  the  great  sorrow  she  had  caused. 

"  I  am  sorry,  John,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice,  and  she 
lifted  her  fair,  bewitching  face  to  him.  But  he  put 
her  sadly  away. 

"  No,  no,  no ;  that  is  past.  Try  to  be  true  to  some 
one.  O,  Gloria !  my  love !  my  love !  my  love !  " 

He  left  her  standing  where  Ray  had  left  her. 
The  floor  at  her  feet  was  white  with  the  torn  leaves 
of  her  flowers.  She  was  vexed  at  every  one. 

"  It  is  a  pity  they  did  not  stay  a  little  longer," 
she  thought  in  her  selfish  soul ;  "  we  were  so  happy 
without  them." 


THE  RUNAWAY  BRIDE.  133 


CHAPTER  Y. 
THE    RUNAWAY    BRIDE. 

"  The  Master  is  come  and  calleth 

For  thee :  he  is  at  the  door ; 
Awake  !  for  his  shadow  falleth 
Across  the  floor." 

"  Alas,  for  all 

The  loves  that  from  his  hand  proud  Youth  lets  fall, 
Even  as  the  beads  of  a  told  rosary." 

FOR  many  days  Gloria's  love  affairs  kept  the  house 
in  an  atmosphere  of  dispute  and  anger;  and 
Cassia  could  not  help  resenting  it.  She  had  resolved 
to  make  their  return  home  a  kind  of  household  fes- 
tival, and  to  date  a  new  and  happier  life  from  it. 
She  had  made  many  new  plans,  and  many  good  reso- 
lutions, and  this  selfish  girl  spoiled  every  thing ;  and 
did  it,  also,  with  an  air  of  innocence  and  regret,  which 
quite  deceived  Raymund.  Every  one  and  every  thing 
was  to  blame  but  Gloria.  In  some  tacit  way  Cassia 
was  made  to  feel  that  all  the  girl's  imprudences  had 
been  the  result  of  that  unfortunate  quarrel  which 
had  left  her  without  adequate  protection. 

"  Both  of  us  away,   and  madam   sick,"  Ray  kept 


134-  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

saying ;  "  of  course  there  was  nothing  to  prevent 
the  child  becoming  the  prey  of  wicked,  designing 
men." 

"  Thoughtless  cruelty  comes  from  a  selfish  heart, 
Ray.  There  was  no  obligation  on  Gloria  to  enter- 
tain herself  with  a  stranger,  while  her  grandmother, 
and  her  brother,  and,  for  all  she  knew  to  the  contrary, 
her  accepted  lover,  were  in  danger  and  distress.  At 
the  very  time  madam  and  yourself  were  at  the 
gates  of  death,  she  was  arranging  little  dinners  for 
this  Captain  Grady,  and  dressing  herself  as  for  a  fes- 
tival. Yes,  she  told  me  how  charmingly  she  had 
thus  passed  the  time.  It  is  an  incredible  selfishness, 
I  think." 

"  Women  are  women  all  the  world  over." 

"It  is  not  fair,  Ray,  to  judge  all  womanhood  by 
Gloria.  How  many  thousands  of  beautiful  young 
girls  were  unprotected  and  uncounseled  during  the 
war,  and  how  very  rarely  one  of  them  soiled  by  a 
suspicion  the  honor  left  in  her  own  keeping!  Fa- 
ther and  John  were  four  years  away;  I  did  not 
amuse  myself  while  their  hourly  fate  was  uncertain." 

"  You  are  an  angel,  Cassia." 

"  No,  I  am  not.  I  am  a  woman  full  of  faults,  and 
I  have  just  proved  it  by  complaining  of  Gloria's  con- 
stant interference  with  our  happiness.  An  angel 
would  have  borne  it  with  more  patience." 


THE  RUNAWAY  BKIDE.  135 

She  turned  away,  troubled  at  last,  for  she  fancied 
there  was  an  inflection  of  sarcasm  in  Ray's  voice. 

The  conversation  had  arisen  out  of  a  very  painful 
scene  between  Gloria  and  her  brother,  in  which  he 
had  positively  forbidden  her  to  see  Captain  Grady 
again.  Raymund  had  been  making  inquiries  about 
the  officer,  but  had  learned  very  little  concerning  him. 
The  planter,  with  whom  he  had  been  staying,  under- 
stood that  he  had  been  sent  on  regimental  business  to 
the  East ;  but  owing  to  the  blockade  against  Galves- 
ton,  had  been  unable  to  transact  it.  He  had,  how- 
ever, left  for  that  city  as  soon  as  he  understood  com- 
merce had  been  resumed,  and  was  not  expected  to 
return  for  six  weeks. 

Possibly  the  officer  was,  as  madam  asserted,  a  very 
suitable  husband  for  Gloria ;  but  Raymund,  on  prin- 
ciple, disapproved  of  every  thing  arranged  without 
his  advice  and  permission.  Also,  he  had  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  John  Preston  was  exactly  the 
man  capable  of  the  long-loving  endurance  he  knew 
Gloria's  peculiarities  would  demand.  During  the 
terrible  fever  season  he  had  learned  to  trust  in  John, 
and  admire  in  him  qualities  which  yet  he  had  no 
desire  to  imitate ;  and  he  was  grateful  to  him  for  the 
faithful  care  with  which  he  had  nursed  him  back  to 
life  and  health.  It  angered  him  that  John  had  been 
so  summarily  dismissed;  he  was  equally  angry  be- 


136  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

cause  lie  took  the  dismissal.  "  A  woman's  <  No ' 
means  '  Yes,'  John,"  he  said ;  "  and,  as  for  a  rival, 
that  doubles  the  delight  of  winning." 

But  John  shook  his  head  gravely.  A  girl  whom 
two  men  thought  they  had  a  right  to  claim  had  lost, 
in  his  eyes,  her  sweetest  charm.  If  she  had  only 
been  true  to  him,  and  to  her  own  promises,  he  could 
have  forgiven  many  other  faults.  But  if  she  did  not 
love  him  entirely,  how  was  he  to  influence  her  in 
their  life  together  ?  She  would  have  no  compelling 
motive  to  obey  or  to  please  him,  and  would  very 
soon  resent  his  authority,  and  make  a  mock  of  all  her 
obligations.  It  was  not  John's  habit  to  deceive  him- 
self ;  he  had  looked  at  his  disappointment  squarely, 
and  accepted  it.  But  he  loved  the  girl  with  all  his 
soul,  and  he  suffered  more  than  any  one,  except 
Cassia,  understood. 

Deprived  of  both  her  lovers,  time  went  wearily  to 
Gloria.  She  had  only  one  relief — her  correspondence 
with  Denis  Grady ;  and  as  Raymund  had  strictly  in- 
terdicted it,  the  clandestine  nature  of  the  pleasure 
afforded  her  that  taste  of  the  forbidden  which  was 
essential  to  her  happiness.  Madam  enjoyed  it  with 
her.  It  was  through  her  contrivance  and  connivance 
letters  were  sent  and  received.  For,  as  Raymund 
attended  to  the  mail-bag  himself,  and  carefully  ex- 
amined all  its  contents,  and  as  he  kept  Gloria  very 


THE  RUNAWAY  BRIDE.  137 

much  under  his  own  eye,  some  agent  was  necessary. 
Several  plans  were  discussed  in  madam's  room,  and 
the  reliability  of  the  different  servants  considered 
there. 

"  Thar  aint  de  fust  one  ob  dem  to  be  'pended  on," 
said  Souda,  scornfully.  "  Dey  might  say  it,  and  dey 
might  swear  it,  and  den  some  day  Mass'  Ray  will  just 
look  at  dem,  wid  dem  half -shut  eyes  ob  his,  and  dey'd 
fall  down  at  his  feet  and  tell  him  all,  and,  far  more 
dan  all  dat,  dey  knows.  I'se  gwine  myself.  I  aint 
been  off  de  place  since  freedom ;  and  dey  says  I'se 
'fraid  to  go  off  de  place ;  so  no  one  will  be  lookin' 
fur  Souda  to  open  de  gate." 

"  But  suppose  you  meet  Master  Raymund,  Souda  ? 
He  would  be  sure  to  suspect.  If  he  asked  you  where 
you  had  been,  what  could  you  say  ?  " 

"  I'd  tell  him  I'd  been  fur  a  pair  ob  new  shoes, 
and  I'd  hab  de  shoes  in  my  hand.  Mass'  Ray  knows 
shoes  hab  got  to  be  fit  on,  and  I'd  just  tell  him  shoes 
don't  last  fureber." 

Madam  was  delighted  at  Soucla's  co-o petition,  and, 
after  this  point  was  settled,  minor  ones  were  easily 
arranged.  For  three  weeks  the  woman,  by  some  lit- 
tle management,  passed  almost  every  day  between  the 
nearest  mail  village  and  Briffault,  although  it  was  a 
distance  of  five  miles.  One  evening  she  was  return- 
ing home,  with  a  letter  from  Denis  Grady  in  her 


138  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

pocket.  She  had  been  singularly  sad  all  day,  and 
had  accounted  for  the  feeling,  to  herself,  by  supposing 
"  her  spirit  was  in  some  trouble  of  which  her  body 
knew  nothing  at  all."  One  event  after  another  of 
her  early  life  came  back  to  her.  "  What's  de  matter 
wid  me  ? "  she  asked  herself.  u  What  fur  I  t'ink  ob 
dis  and  dat,  when  de  circumstance  done  gone  fur- 
eber?" 

It  was  one  of  those  calm,  pensive  evenings,  when 
the  sun's  rays  are  pale,  and  the  air  amber  and  subtle, 
and  the  charmful  silence  has  just  a  vague  stir  in  it. 
The  wild  vines  had  covered  every  thing  with  a 
drapery  richer  in  purple  and  gold  than  any  tissue 
woven  for  kings'  robes ;  and  the  brown  butterflies 
displayed  their  velvets  on  the  year's  last  flowers. 
Souda  sat  down  to  rest  under  a  row  of  palmas,  and 
the  great  bristling  heads  of  bayonet-leaves  made  a 
grim  background  for  the  solitary,  mournful  woman. 
Holding  her  large,  black  face  in  her  hands,  she  gazed 
into  the  space  before  her  with  the  melancholy  of  a 
lost  soul  in  her  eyes. 

"  What  I  made  fur  ?  What  I  made  fur  ?  Just  to 
sin  and  to  suffer  ?  Somet'ing  wrong  somewhar." 
As  she  had  complained  before,  things  long  forgotten 
called  to  her.  She  remembered  deeds  of  injustice 
and  cruelty  that  made  her  tingle  with  annoyance  and 
shame.  One  whom  she  knew  not  saw  her  under  the 


TIIE  RUNAWAY  BRIDE.  139 

palma  trees,  and  brought  her  sins  to  remembrance. 
And,  O,  who  can  bear  to  sit  in  full  view  of  their 
own  sinful  souls  ?  Souda  could  not ;  she  grew  impa- 
tient, almost  angry,  under  the  contemplation,  and 
rose  to  pursue  her  journey.  As  she  did  so  she  heard 
the  sound  of  a  human  voice,  a  voice  sustained  and 
equal,  like  that  of  a  man  reading  aloud. 

"  Mighty  strange  t'ing  ! "  she  muttered,  as  she  di- 
rected her  steps  toward  the  voice.  There  was  a  little 
grove  of  cedars  in  front  of  her,  and  it  seemed  to  come 
from  the  road  on  the  west  side  of  them.  It  was  not  the 
nearest  road  to  Briffault,  but  she  took  it.  There  was 
a  famous  spring  on  this  way-side,  and  she  judged 
rightly  enough  that  any  travelers  near  that  locality 
would  be  camped  for  the  night  beside  it. 

As  she  approached  the  place  she  saw  John  Preston 
standing  upon  the  slight  eminence  overshadowing  the 
bubbling,  crystal  waters.  His  head  was  bare  and  he 
had  an  open  book  in  his  hand,  from  which  he  was 
reading  aloud  to  a  little  company  gathered  near — 
fierce,  tawny-bearded  men,  armed  to  the  teeth,  spurred 
and  booted  like  cavalry  soldiers — Lavacca  teamsters 
carrying  four  wagon-loads  of  valuable  merchandise 
to  the  interior.  It  was  possible  they  might  have  to 
defend  it,  and  they  were  ready  to  do  so ;  but  they 
were  by  no  means  the  quarrelsome  desperadoes  they 
looked  to  be.  One  had  his  wife  and  child  with  him, 


14:0  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

and  the  woman  sat  at  John's  feet  with  her  baby 
asleep  in  her  arms.  Some  of  the  men  leaned  against 
the  rough  cedar  trunks  and  smoked  as  they  listened  ; 
others  lay  upon  the  ground,  with  their  hats  drawn 
over  their  eyes.  Souda  went  softly  to  the  woman's 
side,  and  sat  down  beside  her. 

In  the  awful  aisles  of  the  yellow  fever  hospital 
John  had  only  one  theme  to  preach  from — the  cross 
of  Christ — and  in  the  lonely  sweetness  of  the  cedars 
and  the  prairie  it  was  still  his  text.  "  Behold  it ! " 
he  cried.  "  It  reaches  from  your  clasping  hands  up 
to  the  throne  of  God  !  Who  is  on  it  ?  The  Christ 
of  the  poor  and  the  sorrowful !  The  Christ  of  the 
slave  and  the  prisoner !  The  Christ  of  the  Magda- 
lene !  The  Christ  of  every  sinner  that  ever  lived  ! 
His  outstretched  arms  embrace  the  world.  His 
pierced  hands  have  broken  the  chains  of  the  devil, 
and  turned  the  key  of  the  prison  house  of  hell.  Je- 
sus calls  you,  hearken :  '  Follow  me  !  I  will  in  no 
wise  cast  you  out.  I  have  the  joys  of  heaven,  but  I 
died  for  earth !  I  have  the  adoration  of  angels,  but 
I  want  your  love ! '  O,  can  you  turn  him  away  ? 
Here,  in  this  wilderness,  where  he  has  nowhere  else 
to  lay  his  head  but  on  your  hearts.  Will  you  not 
take  him  now  ? " 

There  was  no  answer,  but  the  whole  atmosphere 
was  sensitive  with  emotion,  and  John  had  to  pause  a 


THE  KUNAWAY  BRIDE.  141 

moment  in  his  impassioned  pleading  ere  he  could  ask 
again: 

"  Can  you  turn  him  away  ? " 

Souda  could  not  bear  it.  Had  she  sat  still  she  must 
have  cried  out.  With  a  face  almost  stern  she  rose 
quickly  and  went  away.  Never,  in  all  her  restrained, 
sinful  life,  had  she  heard  words  like  these.  Her  soul 
was  in  a  tumult,  and  the  old  cry,  that  will  ever  be 
new  until  the  end  of  time,  rose  to  her  lips :  "  What 
shall  I  do?  What  shall  I  do?" 

Generally  it  had  been  a  little  triumph  and  pleasure 
to  her  to  bring  home  a  letter.  The  whole  affair  had 
suddenly  become  of  no  account  in  her  eyes.  She 
laid  it  in  Gloria's  hand  without  a  word,  and  went 
about  her  usual  duties,  like  one  in  some  great  sorrow. 
For  two  days  the  woman  endured  such  misery  as 
souls  know  when  they  "  look  upon  Him  whom  they 
have  pierced."  On  the  afternoon  of  the  third  day, 
while  madam  was  asleep,  she  took  a  horse  and  rode 
over  to  the  Preston  ranch.  John  was  taking  his 
siesta,  but  she  insisted  upon  his  being  awakened. 
When  he  saw  Souda  he  was  frightened.  He  thought 
at  once  of  Cassia,  of  Gloria. 

u  Why  have  you  come  ? "  he  asked. 

"  I'se  come,  Mass'  John,  'case  I'se  de  miserablest, 
broken-heartedest  woman  in  de  worl'.  I  done  heard 
you  preachin'  Monday  night,  and  I'se  had  no  rest,  no 


Ii2  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

sleep,  no  peace  eber  since.     What  kin  you  do  to  help 
me,  Mass' John?" 

Then  John's  face  brightened  all  over.  He  sat 
down  by  the  poor  soul,  and  talked  to  her  until  theyi 
were  both  weeping.  He  told  her  that  she  might  be 
sure  that  when  she  was  seeking  Christ,  Christ  had 
been  first  seeking  her.  He  told  her  of  the  mercy 
of  Christ,  of  the  gentleness  of  Christ ;  he  prayed 
with  the  weeping  woman  until  a  great  peace  filled  the 
room  and  the  divine  miracle  was  again  repeated  ;  for 
that  hour  "  Jesus  was  guest  in  the  heart  of  one  who 
was  a  sinner." 

"He  has  forgiben  me  !  "  cried  Souda,  in  a  kind  of 
wonder.  "  He  has  forgiben  me !  Now  I'se  free, 
Mass'  John  !  I'se  free  now,  soul  and  body  !  O,  de 
glory  ob  it !  What  shall  I  do,  Mass'  John  ? " 

"  Go  home,  and  God  will  show  you,  Souda.  You 
are  his  child  now,  and  you  have  a  right  to  ask  him 
about  every  thing.  You  will  need  help,  ask  it  all  the 
way  home." 

And  O,  how  blessed  is  that  peace  which  Christ  gives 
to  his  own !  That  quiet  within  the  soul,  that  restful 
life  beneath  all  other  life,  which  is  not  ruffled  by  any 
doubt,  and  against  which  neither  death  nor  hell  can 
prevail.  Souda's  countenance  was  quite  changed. 
Madam  noticed  it  the  moment  she  entered  the  room, 
and  rejoiced  at  it,  also ;  for,  though  we  may  affect  to 


THE  RUNAWAY  BRIDE.  143 

despise  our  servants,  they  really  hold  a  great  deal  of 
our  household  happiness  in  their  hands. 

"  So  you  have  found  your  temper,  Souda.  I  con- 
gratulate myself  on  the  circumstance.  You  have  had 
the  devil  in  you  since  Monday." 

"  Fse  done  got  rid  ob  him,  eber  more  got  rid  ob 
him.  I'll  iieber  lift  a  finger  nor  tell  a  lie  fur  him 
again ;  long  as  I  live,  if  de  good  Lord  help  me,  an'  I 
know  he  will." 

Madam  stared  at  her  in  silence  a  moment,  then 
laughed  immoderately. 

"  Why,  you  wicked  old  woman,  do  you  pretend  to 
have  got — religion  ? " 

"  Fse  got  'ligion,  bless  de  Lord  !     Fse  got  it !  " 

"  Really !  Now  where  did  you  get  it  ? "  and  she 
emiled  sarcastically  at  Souda,  as  she  sat  sipping  her 
afternoon  tea. 

"  De  Lord  send  Mass'  John  Preston  wid  a  message 
fur  me,  and  I  listened  to  him." 

"  John  Preston,  of  course  !  And  you  really  have 
the  presumption  to  think  the  Lord  knows  any  thing 
about  you  ? " 

"  He  bought  me  from  de  debil,  and  he's  forgiben 
me  all  my  sins,  and  Fse  gwine  to  sarve  him  all  de 
rest  ob  my  life  ;  sure ! " 

"  Very  well,"  answered  madam,  languidly,  "  the 
subject  does  not  interest  me.  I  don't  suppose  your 


144  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

service  in  that  direction  will  interfere  with  your 
duty  to  me." 

Now  the  earliest  results  of  that  intimate  commun- 
ing between  the  mortal  and  the  immortal,  of  that 
witness  of  the  Spirit,  which  is,  to  the  humblest  and  the 
most  ignorant,  "  the  evidence  of  things  not  seen,"  is  a 
desire,  first,  to  speak  of  the  miraculous  joy ;  second, 
to  do  some  good  to  others.  That  night  Cassia  was 
sitting  in  her  room  with  the  Bible  in  her  hand.  She 
had  finished  her  portion,  and  was  meditating,  with 
closed  eyes,  upon  it. 

"Miss  Cassia!" 

"What  is  it,  Souda?" 

"Miss  Cassia,  I'se  been  forgiben,  and  made  happy 
by  de  Lord,  and  I'se  come  to  ask  you  fur  to  forgibe 
me,  too.  I'se  been  mighty  ugly  many  a  time  'bout 
you-" 

"  O,  Souda !  Is  that  so  ? "  She  took  the  woman's 
hands,  and,  standing  up,  kissed  her.  "I  am  more 
glad,  more  glad  than  I  can  tell  you.  Come  often 
and  speak  to  me.  Don't  lose  your  confidence,  Souda ; 
but  if  you  do  for  one  moment,  come  to  me,  and  we'll 
seek  it  together.  And  you  must  join  the  church  at 
Wanl's  Station  as  soon  as  possible,  then  you'll  have 
the  whole  church  to  help  you." 

In  the  first  joy  of  her  experience  Souda  almost 
wished  for  hard  trials  and  impossible  acts  of  self- 


THE  RUNAWAY  BRIDE.  145 

denial.  She  had  saved  about  one  thousand  dollars, 
and  she  wanted  to  give  it  all  away  to  some  good 
work.  But  John  had  said  to  her,  positively,  "  Go 
home  and  do  your  duty;  as  soon  as  God  has  any 
special  work  for  you,  Souda,  he  will  be  sure  to 
let  you  understand  it.  Perhaps  it  may  be  his  will 
that  you  remain  with  madam.  If  so,  you  will  do 
it?" 

"  Yes,  I'll  do  it,  Mass'  John.  I  hope  de  Lord  hab 
mercy  on  me  now.  1'se  been  many,  many  evil  years 
in  dat  bondage." 

For  about  a  week  after  this  event  things  went  on 
at  Briffault  in  their  usual  course.  Souda  had  many 
a  sneer  from  madam  and  many  a  mocking  laugh 
from  Gloria  to  bear,  but  she  was  as  one  that  heard 
not.  The  following  Sabbath  evening  she  asked  per- 
mission to  go  to  the  preaching  at  Waul's  Station,  and 
she  was  refused.  A  little  later,  as  she  passed  through 
the  yard  to  the  kitchen,  for  something  madam 
wished,  she  saw  a  very  old  woman,  who  was  stone 
blind,  feel  her  way  with  her  stick,  to  the  well,  and 
then  try,  with  her  trembling  hands,  to  draw  herself  a 
drink  of  water.  Souda  had  been  very  hard  on  this 
woman  in  years  gone  by ;  she  had  caused  her  suffer- 
ing and  sorrow  without  stint,  and  she  had  seen  her 
many  and  many  a  time  make  just  as  painful  efforts ; 

and  the  sight  had  never  troubled  her  before.     But 
10 


14:6  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BBIFFAULT. 

this  night  her  heart  ached,  her  eyes  filled.  She  went 
to  the  well-side  and  took  the  bucket  from  her. 

"  Jane,  I  will  draw  you  some  water." 

"  Fur  de  Lor's  sake !  "  The  old  woman  trembled 
with  terror.  She  lifted  her  sightless  eyes  to  Souda's 
face.  It  was  more  than  Souda  could  bear.  She 
leaned  upon  the  well-curb  and  cried  bitterly. 

"I'se  had  you  whipped  often,  Jane.  I  got  de 
madam  to  sell  your  little  daughter  'way  to  Orleans. 
I'se  made  you  cry  your  eye-sight  clean  gone.  I 
wonder,  O,  I  wonder,  ef  you  can  forgive  me !  " 

"  I'se  forgiven  you  long  ago,  Souda.  When  Jesus 
Christ  forgave  me,  dat  hour  I  forgave  you,  forgave 
you  eberyt'ing." 

Then,  rapid  and  vivid  as  a  flash  of  light,  Souda's 
reparation  was  made  clear  to  her.  It  sprung  up  in 
her  heart  perfect ;  she  did  not  need  to  think  it  out,  or 
make  plans,  or  regulations,  or  by-laws,  concerning  it. 

"  I'se  gwine  to  take  care  ob  you  as  long  as  you  live, 
Jane.  You  sha'n't  eber  want  your  cup  ob  tea,  nor 
your  pipe,  nor  any  comfort  I  kin  git  you ;  and  you 
shall  have  de  best  cha'r  in  de  chimbley  corner,  no 
matter  who  comes  next.  Mass'  John  Preston  done 
tole  me  dat  most  ob  de  Briffault  people  are  in  Gal- 
veston — some  ob  dem  very  bad  off — dar  was  Moke 
and  his  wife,  dey  died  ob  de  fever,  and  lef  four  little 
chillen.  I'se  gwine  down  to  Galveston.  I'se  gwine 


THE  RUNAWAY  BBIDE.  147 

to  take  you  wid  me.  I'se  gwine  to  make  a  home  fur 
dein  as  needs  it — de  little  chillen  and  de  sick  women, 
and  de  men  when  dey  has  de  rhumatiz  and  sich.  I'se 
got  a  thousand  dollars,  and  I'll  take  in  de  fine  wash- 
in',  and  none  ob  de  ole  Briffault  folks,  in  trouble, 
shall  eber  want  a  home.  But  you  shall  allays  be  de 
fust,  Jane." 

"  O  my  good  Lord  !  What  a  wonder !  Souda, 
Souda,  am  dis  true  2  Sure  true  ? " 

"  Sure  true,  Jane.  And  ef  de  Lord  will  help  me 
I'll  find  your  little  Jane  fur  you.  I  will,  indeed  !  " 

The  next  minute's  communing  between  the  women 
was  without  speech,  but  Souda's  heart  was  joyful,  and 
she  gave  Jane  her  draught  of  cold  water,  and  led  her 
carefully  back  to  her  comfortless  cabin,  with  many  a 
word  of  hope  and  comfort. 

Souda  kept  her  promise,  kept  it  without  delay,  and, 
as  often  happens,  the  change,  apparently  great  and 
difficult,  was  effected  with  little  real  trouble.  Madam 
was  passionately  angry,  and  Gloria  annoyed,  at  the 
confusion  it  might  cause  in  her  correspondence  with 
Captain  Grady;  but  Cassia  rejoiced  in  the  project. 
She  believed  it  to  be  the  best  thing  for  Souda  to  cast 
entirely  off  the  trammels  of  her  sinful  slavery,  and  to 
begin,  in  fresh  and  better  surroundings,  a  life  of  self- 
denial  and  good  works.  She  went  through  her  own 
stores  and  cheerfully  gave  such  things  as  were  abso- 


148  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

lately  necessary  to  the  new  home.  As  for  Raymund, 
he  also  was  glad  of  Souda's  retirement  from  Briffault. 
He  had  long  resented  her  influence  with  madam, 
and  her  overbearing  authority  among  the  other  hands. 
He  blamed  her  for  much  that  was  offensive  in  mad- 
am's behavior  to  Cassia ;  he  sincerely  thought  his 
home  would  be  happier  without  the  tall,  black 
women,  who  had  dominated  in  it  for  so  many  years. 
But  he  gave  her  a  handsome  present,  as  she  stood  for 
the  last  time  on  his  threshold,  and  he  said  no  word  to 
discourage  her  work  of  reparation,  though  he  laughed 
to  himself  sarcastically  as  he  resumed  the  newspaper 
he  was  reading. 

Madam  was  now  mainly  dependent  upon  Gloria, 
and  Gloria  did  not  enjoy  the  position  which  Souda's 
defection  had  almost  compelled  her  to  take.  Another 
maid  was  hired  to  attend  to  madam's  physical  wants ; 
but  she  expected  Gloria  to  talk  to  her,  to  bring  her 
news,  or  to  read  to  her,  when  she  wished  to  be  enter- 
tained in  that  way.  The  life  became  a  kind  of  bond- 
age to  the.  restless,  selfish  girl.  She  complained  bit- 
terly to  her  lover  of  the  "  cruel "  demands  made  upon 
her  time  and  strength,  and,  of  course,  he  sympathized 
with  her.  Just  for  once,  he  begged  her  to  meet  him, 
unknown  to  any  one,  and  promised  to  be  waiting  for 
her,  at  whatever  time  and  place  she  chose  to  ap- 
point. Her  first  impulse  was  to  name  midnight,  at 


THE  RUNAWAY  BRIDE.  149 

the  lower  end  of  the  avenue.  That  would  have  been 
the  most  romantic,  but  she  reflected  that  madam  was 
wakeful  and  watchful  at  that  hour,  and  that  it  would 
be  uncomfortable,  and  too  dark  for  Denis  to  see  either 
her  beauty  or  her  toilet.  So  she  decided  upon  a 
certain  little  grove  of  live  oaks  behind  the  house  as 
the  place  of  meeting,  and  named  two  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon  as  the  time.  Denis  was  waiting,  in  a  new 
uniform,  and  looking  more  dashing  and  handsome 
than  ever.  He  had  a  daring  scheme  to  propose,  and 
he  had  taken  every  pains  to  augment  his  personal 
influence. 

"  I  am  going  to  Washington  and  New  York  next 
week,  Gloria,  my  darling,  and  unless  you  go  with  me, 
I  don't  know  when  we  may  meet  again." 

The  hook  was  twice  baited — "  Washington  and 
New  York,"  "unless  you  go  with  me."  Gloria 
seized  upon  these  words  at  once,  and  they  were  the 
texts  of  all  their  further  conversation.  Every  thing, 
also,  was  in  the  tempter's  favor.  Gloria  was  weary 
of  her  life,  weary  of  madam's  wants  and  exactions, 
weary,  even,  of  her  affection.  Winter  was  coming 
on,  and  winter  at  Briffault  would  be  dull  and  dreary ; 
while  winter  in  New  York  or  Washington  meant 
balls  and  operas  and  endless  gayety.  The  captain 
said  his  regimental  business  would  detain  him  in  the 
North  until  spring;  and  then  he  pictured  the  de- 


150  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

lights  of  a  life  in  camp  at  that  season — the  daily  gal- 
lops, the  trials  in  rifle  shooting,  the  visiting,  and  per- 
fect freedom.  And  the  handsome  soldier,  so  brave 
looking,  so  graceful  and  ardent  in  his  wooing,  gave 
to  the  temptation  a  reality  and  power  the  foolish 
girl  could  not  resist ;  in  fact,  she  had  no  desire  to 
resist  it.  She  submitted  her  will  entirely  to  the  will 
of  Denis,  and  as  soon  as  he  was  sure  of  this,  he  made 
his  final  proposal.  The  jewels  her  grandmother  had 
promised — they  were  hers,  twenty  times  over,  they 
were  hers.  He  had  heard  them  given  to  her  at  least 
that  often.  She  must  manage  to  get  them  in  some 
way  or  other. 

"  Let  me  see  madam,"  he  urged ;  "  she  will  doubt- 
less agree  to  our  marriage,  and  give  you  the  present 
she  promised." 

He  knew  well  that  madam  would  do  nothing  of 
the  kind,  but  he  wished  Gloria  to  assume  the  part  he 
designed  her  to  play. 

The  girl  fell  readily  into  the  trap. 

"  No,  Denis,"  she  answered,  positively ;  "  grandma 
has  changed  her  views  somewhat  since  Souda  left 
her.  I  told  you  so,  if  you  would  remember.  She 
does  not  want  me  to  marry  for  a  couple  of  years ; 
and  she  said  yesterday  that  I  should  have  three 
months  in  Austin  this  winter,  and  there,  perhaps,  I 
might  see  some  one  whom  I  could  love  better  than 


THE  RUNAWAY  BRIDE.  151 

you,  and  who  would  not  take  me  so  far  away  from 
her,  as  if  I  ever  could  love  any  one  but  you,  Denis." 

"  Then,  Gloria,  there  is  only  one  thing  to  be  done. 
I  will  have  a  buggy  waiting  here  to-morrow  night, 
and  before  your  brother  is  awake  in  the  morning  we 
shall  be  in  Galveston,  and  married.  You  can  secure 
your  jewels  by  that  time." 

"I  will  tell  you  a  better  way.  Grandma  goes  to 
bed  about  dawn.  Her  maid  sits  the  first  part  of  the 
night  with  her;  I  sit  the  latter  part,  when  I  feel  able. 
I  shall  be  able  to-morrow  morning,  and  while  grand- 
ma is  in  her  first  sleep  I  shall  get  what  I  want. 
Then  I  will  meet  you  here.  It  may  be  seven  or 
eight  o'clock." 

Gloria  went  home  quite  satisfied  with  her  inter- 
view. Her  splendid  lover !  The  delights  of  Wash- 
ington and  New  York !  Not  for  a  moment  did  she 
hesitate  between  them  and  her  duty.  She  made  her- 
self charming  to  madam.  She  lavished  the  prettiest 
attentions  upon  her.  She  induced  her  to  talk  of  her 
own  days  of  beauty  and  triumph ;  for  she  knew  well 
such  a  conversation  usually  brought  forward  the  laces 
and  jewels  of  that  period.  It  was  as  she  expected. 
The  little  drawers  were  placed  upon  the  table  by 
madam's  side,  and  the  old,  trembling  yellow  fingers, 
and  the  young,  shapely  white  ones,  toyed  with  the 
glinting  gems,  and  talked  of  the  scenes  in  which  they 


152  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

bad  sparkled.  "  These  !  and  these  !  and  these  !  you 
shall  take  with  you  to  Austin,"  said  madam,  pointing 
out  the  rosy  rubies,  and  moonlight  pearls,  and  the 
rich  set  of  gold  and  aqua  marines. 

And  the  pretty  Judas  kissed  and  thanked  her; 
and  as  she  replaced  the  drawers,  chatted  so  pleas- 
antly, madam  never  noticed  that  she  locked,  and  then 
unlocked,  the  inner  cabinet,  so  that  there  was  only 
the  main  key  to  turn,  when  the  moment  of  abstrac- 
tion came.  She  took  her  rest  as  usual.  She  wanted 
to  look  well  on  her  wedding-day,  and  she  knew  the 
value  of  the  early  beauty  sleep.  But  about  two 
in  the  morning  she  rose,  and  with  a  light  step 
and  bright  face  went  to  madam's  room.  Madam 
was  delighted  to  see  her.  The  new  maid,  Josepha, 
was  nodding  wearily  bv  the  window.  Gloria  sent  her 
to  bed,  and  then  sat  down  to  amuse  madam.  It  was 
her  last  watch,  she  could  afford  to  keep  it  pleasantly. 
She  made  the  hours,  usually  so  wearisome,  pass  rap- 
idly away,  and  at  dawn,  madam  had  thoroughly  ex- 
hausted herself.  She  fell  into  a  profound  sleep. 

Gloria  tested  it  in  various  ways,  but  not  even  the 
falling  of  a  chair  disturbed  the  unconscious  woman. 
Without  hurry,  and  without  a  tremor,  she  opened 
the  cabinet.  It  was  an  easy  matter  enough.  She 
took  whatever  she  desired,  and  left  in  one  of  the 
empty  drawers  a  little  note  which  she  had  written 


THE  KUNAWAY  BRIDE.  153 

for  the  purpose.  Then  she  locked  them  all,  and 
having  carefully  turned  the  main  key,  put  it  in  its 
usual  hiding-place.  Madam  had  never  stirred ; 
Gloria  stood  a  moment  and  looked  at  her,  then  she 
closed  the  door  softly,  and  hastened  to  her  own  room 
to  complete  her  arrangements. 

A  pretty  combination  suit  of  wood-colors,  with 
hat  and  gloves  to  match  it,  lay  ready  for  her  to  put 
on.  She  carried  the  small  leather  bag  holding  the 
jewels  in  her  hand,  and,  deliberately  buttoning  her 
gloves,  passed  through  the  yard  at  the  back  of  the 
house.  A  servant  was  lazily  drawing  a  bucket  of 
water,  but  her  back  was  to  Gloria,  and  she  never 
noticed  her.  Nothing,  no  one,  interfered  between 
her  and  the  evil  fate  she  was  going  with  such  satis- 
faction to  meet.  Denis  was  watching  for  her.  He 
came  joyfully  to  welcome  her,  lifted  her  with  kisses 
into  the  buggy,  and  drove  her  rapidly  away. 

It  was  a  pleasant  morning,  a  little  frosty,  but  only 
cold  enough  to  make  comfortable  the  fleecy  pink 
scarf,  which  she  drew  around  her  neck  with  a  con- 
scious sense  of  its  becomingness.  Denis  had  only 
asked  in  reference  to  the  jewels,  "  All  right  ? "  and 
been  quite  satisfied  when  she  put  her  hand  on  the 
bag  with  a  meaning  smile.  "  You  are  as  clever  as 
you  are  beautiful,"  he  answered ;  "  not  every  girl  is 
clever  enough  to  take  her  own." 


154  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

She  laughed  pleasantly,  and  he  kissed  her.  She 
made  no  pretenses  of  regret,  and  cast  no  looks  back- 
ward. She  had  determined  to  have  a  happy  wedding- 
day,  and  to  have  it  undimmed  by  any  reference  to 
the  happiness  of  others.  She  thought,  with  a  scornful 
complaisance,  of  Cassia's  tolerance  with  her  own  inter- 
ferences, and  she  determined  no  one  should  share  in 
her  peculiar  pleasure. 

At  Briffault  she  was  not  missed  until  the  noon- 
hour  lunch.  It  was  supposed  she  was  sleeping  after 
her  watch  with  madam.  No  one  thought  of  disturb- 
ing her,  even  when  Cassia  noticed  her  absence.  But 
suddenly,  a  few  minutes  afterward,  Raymund  laid 
down  his  knife  and  fork.  One  of  those  sharp  pre- 
sentiments, not  to  be  put  aside,  had  struck  him  like  a 
blow.  He  said  to  the  girl  in  waiting : 

"  Go  to  Miss  Gloria's  room,  and  tell  her  lunch  is 
ready." 

She  came  back  in  a  few  minutes. 

"  The  door  am  locked,  sar,  and  I  kaint  make  Miss 
Gloria  hear  me." 

Raymund  rose  instantly.  He  was  already  in  a 
passion,  for  his  heart  divined  what  had  happened. 
He  placed  his  knee  against  the  door,  and  with  one 
blow  flung  it  wide.  Cassia  had  followed  him,  and  he 
turned  angrily  to  her  : 

"  This  is  your  care  of  the  child,  is  it  ?  " 


THE  EUNAWAY  BRIDE.  155 

His  anger  gathered  strength  with  every  thing 
his  eye  fell  on.  He  tossed  the  dresses  and  slippers 
and  the  knick-knacks  of  the  pretty  room  before 
his  passionate  steps.  His  eye  fell  at  last  upon  a 
note  addressed  to  himself.  It  confirmed  his  sus- 
picions. 

"  She  has  gone  with  that  Denis  Grady !  I  wonder 
where  your  senses  were,  Cassia,  to  let  a  child  like 
Gloria  outwit  you !  I  hope,  I  do  hope,  you  were  not 
willingly,  intentionally  blind." 

"  Ray,  how  can  you  insinuate  such  a  crime  against 
me?  I  never  once  suspected  Gloria.  Why  not 
rather  accuse  madam  ? " 

"  Because,  as  the  lawyers  say,  madam  had  no  inter- 
est in  getting  rid  of  the  poor  girl." 

Cassia  turned  indignantly  away.  She  knew  it  was 
useless  to  defend  herself.  Then  Raymund  went  to 
madam.  She  had  heard  him  at  a  distance,  and  was 
prepared  to  resent  another  exhibition  of  his  tem- 
per. Not  even  his  startling  statement  that  Gloria 
had  fled  made  her  move  an  inch  from  the  position 
she  had  taken. 

"  I  don't  in  the  least  wonder,"  she  answered. 
"  Any  one  would  flee  from  you  who  had  the  power 
and  the  opportunity.  It  is  your  own  fault,  sir  !  You 
were  always  tormenting  her  about  John  Preston. 
You  never  did  any  thing  to  make  the  place  pleasant 


156  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

for  a  young  girl.  I  am  glad  she  has  gone !  Very 
glad,  indeed ! " 

Madam  seemed  to  take  a  delight  in  irritating  her 
passionate  grandson,  and  he  very  soon  got  beyond 
caring  for  either  what  lie  did  or  what  he  said. 

"  Why  are  you  storming  at  an  old  woman  like 
me  ?  "  she  asked,  scornfully.  "  Have  you  not  got  a 
wife  ?  Your  father  would  have  been  on  the  heels  of 
Denis  Grady  by  this  time.  Bah  !  your  anger  is  only 
•words ;  only  words,  sir !  You  are  a  coward,  sir ! 
You  are  afraid  of  Grady's  sword !  You  are  afraid 
of  your  wife  !  You  come  here  to  bully  an  old  wom- 
an !  I  will  have  my  maid  turn  you  out  of  my  room 
unless  you  leave  it  at  once,  sir !  " 

In  her  passion  she  had  risen  without  her  stick  and 
advanced  toward  him.  Her  eyes  blazed.  By  sheer 
force  of  will  she  mastered  him.  Step  by  step,  still 
facing  him,  she  talked  him  to  the  door,  and,  as  he 
passed  through  it,  she  closed  it  violently  and  turned 
the  key. 

"  He  has  cost  me  a  year  of  my  life,"  she  muttered, 
as  she  sank,  almost  fainting,  into  her  chair.  "  What 
does  he  come  here  for?  Let  him  go  to  his  wife  I 
Let  him  go  to  his  wife !  " 

That  night,  while  madam  fretted  and  scolded  over 
Gloria's  selfish  desertion  and  Raymund's  selfish  attack 
upon  her,  she  heard  an  unusual  stir  in  the  house. 


THE  RUNAWAY  BRIDE.  157 

Women  ran  hither  and  thither.  Raymund  called  for 
his  horse  and  galloped  down  the  avenue  at  its  fiercest 
speed.  At  a  similar  speed  he  returned  an  hour  aft- 
erward, and,  toward  the  dawning,  she  heard — and 
she  could  not  help  crying  out  herself  as  she  heard 
it — the  hard,  unmistakable  wailing  of  a  new-born 
child. 


158  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BUIFFAULT. 


CHAPTEK  VL 
R  A  Y'S      LEGACY. 

"  Bewitched  with  noise  and  show, 
He  fain  would  see  the  world,  and  have  a  share 
In  all  the  follies  and  the  tumults  there ; 
And  business  he  would  have,  and  would  create 
Business :  the  frivolous  pretense 
Of  human  lust  to  shake  off  innocence." 

ris  safe  to  say  that  no  life  is  exactly  the  same  after 
jn  interval  of  more  than  three  years.  Something 
in  its  circumstances  or  surroundings  has  changed. 
Outsiders  may  not  observe  it,  but  those  who  pass  be- 
hind the  doors  know  the  difference.  Gloria  had 
dropped  completely  out  of  the  life  at  Briffault ;  her 
name,  if  not  forgotten,  was  never  spoken — not  even 
by  madam.  At  first  she  looked  anxiously  for  some 
word  from  her  ungrateful  grandchild,  and,  if  it  had 
come,  she  was  inclined  to  pardon  her  freely.  But 
Gloria,  in  the  first  triumph  of  her  new  position,  never 
thought  of  her  past  life.  Nothing  in  it,  at  that  time, 
was  necessary  to  her  happiness,  and  she  was  not  of 
that  noble  order  of  souls  who  double  their  pleasures 
by  sharing  them.  The  selfish  girl  knew  well  what  a 


EAY'S  LEGACY.  159 

delight  her  letters,  full  of  descriptions  of  Washington 
or  New  York  life,  would  be  to  madam  ;  but  it  would 
have  cost  her  an  effort  and  an  hour  or  two  of  time  to 
write  them ;  and,  besides,  she  liked  best  those  joys 
which  she  isolated.  She  did  not  want  any  body  even 
to  talk  of  affairs  which  she  regarded  as  strictly  her 
own.  Cassia's  generosity,  under  the  same  circum- 
stances, gave  her  no  sense  of  gratitude ;  she  knew 
how  selfishly  she  had  abused  it,  and  she  was  deter- 
mined no  one  should  interfere  with  her  in  the  same 
way. 

Madam  felt  her  desertion  so  keenly  that  at  first 
she  was  fain  to  seek  some  comfort  from  Cassia's  ex- 
cuses ;  but  one  morning,  about  six  weeks  after  Glo- 
ria's flight,  some  trifling  circumstance  led  her  to  her 
jewel  drawers.  Then  she  discovered  her  loss,  and 
it  may  be  j  ustly  said  the  gems  were  the  poorest  part 
of  it.  She  lifted  the  little  note,  with  trembling  fin- 
gers, and  read  its  few  words  very  slowly  : 

"  DEAR  GRANDMA  :  I  know  you  will  not  be  angry 
at  my  taking  what  you  have  so  often  and  so  kindly 
given  me.  Denis  joins  his  *  fare  well'  with  mine. 
We  shall  always  remember  you.  GLORIA." 

It  was  carelessly  written  ;  there  was  even  a  tone 
of  patronage  about  it.  Madam  felt  that  the  small 


160  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

courtesy  had  been  a  bore.  She  thought  perfect  si- 
lence and  a  blank  between  them  had  been  better. 
Her  lips  set  firmly  and  her  eyes  darkened.  She  had 
often  shed  a  few  tears  about  her  favorite  ;  she  thought 
that  she  would  never  do  so  again.  With  an  angry 
deliberation  she  tore  the  note  into  small  fragments 
and  threw  the  white  strips,  one  by  one,  upon  the  blaz- 
ing logs.  She  looked  up  at  Burke  Briffault's  picture, 
and  an  unspeakable  sadness  was  on  her  face. 

"  O,  the  mistakes  of  life  !  "  she  murmured.  "  O, 
the  bitter  mistakes  we  make  !  O,  if  time  could  run 
back  again ! " 

Up  and  down  her  room  she  wandered,  implacably 
removing  every  trifling  memento  of  her  treacherous 
grandchild. 

But  she  was  a  woman  of  strong  affections,  and  all 
her  life  she  had  lavished  them  upon  some  one  object 
she  had  made  specially  dear  to  her.  With  the  singu- 
lar taste  so  common  to  old  age,  she  turned  to  infancy. 
Ray's  little  daughter  became  her  idol,  and  when  it  lay 
asleep  upon  her  knee  her  whole  countenance  changed. 
JThe  child  had  been  called  "  Mary,"  after  Cassia's 
mother,  and,  much  to  every  one's  surprise,  madam  -ap- 
proved the  choice. 

"  It  is  the  sweetest  of  names,"  she  said  ;  and  then, 
almost  in  a  whisper,  "  My  mother  was  called  Mary." 

And  so  little  Mary  Briffault  reigned  in  the  place 


RAY'S  LEGACY.  161 

of  many  other  idols,  dead  or  deposed,  and  she  ruled 
madam  absolutely. 

During  these  three  years  things  had  not  gone  well 
with  Raymund.  His  crop  for  two  seasons  had  been 
a  failure  ;  he  was  beginning  to  feel  the  anxiety  which 
comes  of  straitened  means.  Unfortunately  his  was 
neither  the  eye  nor  the  hand  of  the  diligent  master. 
He  had  occasional  fits  of  careful  oversight,  but  they 
did  not  last.  Madam  had  managed  affairs  much  bet- 
ter, and  in  her  days  the  income  had  never  fallen  be- 
low the  expenditure  of  the  place.  But  Raymund 
could  not  grapple  with  small  difficulties  nor  enter  into 
petty  details.  He  began  to  talk  of  renting  the  land 
and  of  going  into  some  other  business.  He  visited 
Galveston  frequently,  and  he  returned  home,  after 
such  visits,  in  very  variable  moods. 

One  morning,  nearly  three  years  after  Gloria  had 
left  her  home,  Raymund  received  three  letters.  The 
first  he  lifted  was  an  urgent  request  for  money  over- 
due. He  read  it,  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  threw 
it  into  the  fire.  The  second  was  from  Gloria.  He 
glanced  at  the  post-mark,  a  small  town  upon  the  Rio 
Grande,  and,  without  opening  it,  threw  it  also  into 
the  fire.  The  third  was  fro:n  .Dick  Ratcliffe.  lie  read 
it  carefully  and  looked  at  Cassia.  Breakfast  had  just 
been  brought  in,  and  she  was  making  coffee.  Usually 

he  was  content  to  feel  the  charm  of  her  sweet  beauty 
11 


162  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

and  calm,  gracious  ways,  without  any  accurate  notice 
of  them.  But  he  was  conscious  of  a  more  particular 
estimate  at  this  moment.  He  thought  she  was  love- 
lier than  when  they  were  first  married.  As  he  took 
?  in  with  delight  the  graceful  curves  of  her  fine  form 
and  the  spotless  neatness  of  her  attire,  she  lifted  her 
large,  dark  eyes,  beaming  with  love,  to  his  face.  He 
had  not  intended  to  tell  her  about  Katcliffe's  letter, 
but,  somehow,  the  matter  slipped  from  him. 

"  Ratcliffe  is  dying,  and  he  says  he  would  like  to 
see  me,  Cassia  dear." 

"  Poor  fellow !  How  terrible  to  die  in  such  a 
place!" 

u  He  was  good  to  me  when  I  took  the  fever." 

"  Yery  good.  I  shall  never  forget  it.  God  re- 
member it  to  him  at  this  hour ! " 

"  I  think  I  ought  to  go.  The  Ratcliffes  have  been 
connected  with  us  for  four  generations." 

"  If  you  could  say  one  word,  Ray,  he  might  listen 
to  you ;  or,  if  you  don't  like  to  speak,  you  might  ask 
John  to  do  so.  He  is  in  Galveston,  at  the  Trernont ; 
ask  him  to  pray  with  the  poor  soul.  Do,  Ray  ;  he 
got  you  a  bed  and  a  physician,  and  called  your  friends 
to  you ;  try  and  bring  him  some  hope  and  comfort  at 
his  last  hour.  You  ought  to,  indeed  you  ought.  No 
one  else,  perhaps,  may  think  of  it." 

"  I  don't  like  to  meddle  in  such  matters — even  a 


RAY'S  LEGACY.  163 

dying  man  is  apt  to  resent  any  thing  so  personal — and 
what  is  the  use  now,  any  way  ?  " 

"  You  know  the  use  ;  he  very  likely  does  not,  Ray  ; 
you  will  not  be  innocent  if  you  neglect  such  an 
obvious  duty.  Perhaps  for  this  very  reason  he  has 
remembered  you." 

"  What  a  little  Methodist  you  are,  Cassia  !  You 
should  not  say  such  uncomfortable  things.  Dick 
Ratcliffe's  soul  is  none  of  my  affair." 

"  But  if  you  see  John,  you  will  tell  him  Ratcliffe 
is  dying ;  will  you  not  ?  " 

Raymund  tried  to  see  John.  Somehow  Cassia's 
words  had  given  him  a  feeling  of  obligation  in  the 
matter,  and  he  was  glad  to  shift  it  to  John's 
conscience. 

About  a  week  afterward  John  Preston  was  walk- 
ing slowly  down  the  ribbed  and  water-lined  sands. 
The  ocean's  murmer  haunted  it  like  a  spirit  voice ; 
and  the  sea  looked  dimmer  for  the  phantom  foam 
which  showed  the  irresistible  set  of  the  tide,  gliding 
up  to  the  land  between  the  night  and  morning.  He 
walked  very  slowly,  for  it  was  a  hot,  languid  summer 
midnight,  and  he  was  also  greatly  troubled.  Twice 
he  turned  and  looked  at  the  house  from  which  he  had 
just  come — the  long,  low  hut  in  which  Dick  RatclilTe 
lay  dying.  He  had  been  to  see  him  often  during  the 
past  week,  and  he  had  always  been  received  with 


164  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

courtesy  and  indifference.  The  apathy  of  the  men 
to  every  thing  but  the  game  they  were  playing 
struck  John  with  terror.  If  he  had  seen  them  i:i 
some  dream  of  hell,  he  could  scarcely  have  felt  more 
hopeless.  Conscience  seemed  utterly  dead.  Nothing 
beyond  the  bare  tables  at  which  they  sat  interested 
them. 

Yet  on  this  night,  though  he  had  just  left  the 
place,  he  felt  impelled  to  go  back.  Ratcliffe  was  at 
his  last  hour.  The  doctor  had  told  him  so.  But  at 
the  last  moment  John  had  seen  men  turn  their 
dying  eyes  to  the  cross,  towering  above  their  sins 
and  their  wicked  lives.  So  he  hastily  retraced 
his  steps.  In  the  outer  room  two  men  were  playing 
euchre,  and  a  red-eyed  bar  tender  was  drowsily  watch- 
ing the  game.  They  glanced  up  as  John  re-entered, 
but  never  ceased  the  shuffling  of  the  cards  in  their 
hands.  No  one  stayed  him,  and  he  pushed  aside  the 
door  of  the  death  room. 

His  eyes  fell  upon  an  awful  scene.  The  dying 
man  had  been  propped  up  in  his  bed,  and,  with  three 
of  his  companions,  was  playing  his  last  game.  His 
eyes  were  glazing,  his  hands  almost  clay,  and  when 
he  saw  John  the  cards  dropped  from  them,  and,  with 
a  low  cry  of  terror,  he  fell  back,  dead. 

"  Dick  has  lost  his  game,"  said  one  of  the  men,  ris- 
ing, and  flinging  down  his  "  hand."  His  partner, 


KAY'S  LEGACY.  165 

with  an  uneasy  laugh,  followed  his  example.  They 
would  have  passed  John,  but  he  stood  in  the  door, 
and  he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  foremost  : 

"  He  has  lost  his  soul,  Dacre  ;  that  is  the  game  he 
has  lost.  You  have  been  dicing  with  the  devil  on 
the  brink  of  perdition,- and  one  of  you  has  fallen  into 
it.  O,  if  you  would  only  lay  the  warning  to  heart !" 

They  pushed  past  him  with  an  exclamation  of 
angry  impatience;  and  he  went  up  to  Raymund,  who 
still  sat  at  the  table  with  his  share  of  the  devil's  deal 
in  his  hand.  Raymund  rose,  with  an  apology. 

"  You  see,  John,  it  was  such  an  old  friendship- 
four  generations — and  the  cards  were  the  only  thing 
he  had  any  comfort  in." 

"  What  kind  of  a  friendship  is  that  which  asks  you 
down  to  the  bottomless  pit,  Ray?  Will  you  sell 
yourself,  soul  and  body,  for  these  ?  " 

And  he  took  the  bits  of  painted  paper  out  of  Ray's 
hand  and  flung  them,  with  tears  and  righteous  anger, 
upon  the  dirty  table. 

Raymund  did  not  answer ;  his  hat  lay  by  his  side 
upon  the  floor;  he  lifted  it,  and  followed  John  out  of 
the  room.  At  the  bar  he  stopped,  put  down  the 
price  of  his  whisky,  and  said : 

"  Ratcliffe  is  dead." 

The  bar  tender  blinked  his  sleepy  eyes,  and 
muttered  : 


166  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

"  I  thought  so." 

The  men  whose  play  he  was  watching  were  ab- 
sorbed in  their  game ;  one  said  something  about 
"  a  big  funeral,"  the  other  said,  in  a  business-like 
manner,  "  I  pass."  They  had  been  joined  by  a  third 
party,  a  hunchback,  who  was  in  a  fever  of  excite- 
ment, and  not  even  "  the  specter  with  the  equal  foot- 
steps "  could  make  them  lift  their  eyes  from  the 
golden  stake  and  the  cards  in  their  hands. 

Outside,  on  the  sandy  beach,  John  was  waiting  for 
Raymund.  He  was  standing  bareheaded  and  mo- 
tionless, and  his  solitary  figure  in  the  eerie  light  was 
solemnly  pathetic.  Raymund  heard  no  sound,  but 
he  knew  that  John  was  praying,  and  the  idea  of  an 
intercessor  occurred  clearly  to  him. 

"  I  will  go  home,  late  as  it  is,"  he  said  to  John  ; 
"  I  think  it  will  be  good  to  see  Cassia  and  the 
children." 

It  was  broad  daylight  when  he  arrived  at  Briffault, 
and  he  went  softly  up  stairs.  He  felt  almost  ashamed 
to  enter  his  wife's  presence.  He  could  not  rid 
himself  of  the  atmosphere  of  defilement  which 
he  had  brought  from  Ratcliffe's,  and  he  wondered 
if  she. would  be  conscious  of  it.  Almost  he  hoped 
that  she  was  still  sleeping;  then  he  could  throw 
off  his  soiled  suit,  and  bathe  and  refresh  himself 
ere  he  spoke  to  her.  But  she  was  dressed  and 


RAY'S  LEGACY.  167 

cooing  soft  words  of  love  over  the  crib  of  his  little 
Mary.  Her  soft  mull  robe  fell  round  her  in  snowy 
folds,  as  she  bent  to  the  child ;  and  the  child's  bare, 
dimpled  arms  clasped  the  mother's  neck.  He  took  in 
at  a  glance  the  peace  and  purity,  the  exquisite  order 
and  beauty  of  the  white,  still  room.  After  Dick 
RatclinVs  bar,  it  was  like  the  precincts  of  a  temple. 

His  footstep  was  instantly  heard,  and  Cassia  laid 
down  the  child  and  turned  to  him  with  a  smile.  At 
first  he  thought  he  would  tell  her  nothing  of  what 
he  had  seen,  for  why  should  such  knowledge  of  sin 
be  given  to  her  ?  But  the  same  "  necessity  "  of  con- 
fidence was  on  him  that  ruled  the  Ancient  Mariner. 
He  felt  that  he  must  "  needs"  speak  of  the  awful  scene 
in  which  he  had  been  an  actor ;  for  his  soul  shivered 
in  its  guilty  fear,  and  longed  to  take  hold  of  some- 
thing purer  than  itself.  They  were  speaking  in  low- 
tones,  for  the  sake  of  the  sleeping  baby ;  but  he 
dropped  his  voice  almost  to  a  whisper,  as  he  said  : 

"  Dick  Ratcliffe  is  dead !  I  told  you  John  could 
do  nothing  there,  Cassia." 

Then,  in  a  few  vivid  sentences,  he  went  over  the 
death  scene,  and  Cassia  listened,  with  parted  lips  and 
eyes  full  of  fear  and  pity,  to  the  relation.  That  morn- 
ing he  was  glad  to  see  her  praying ;  glad  to  think 
that  his  name  was  whispered  to  the  Lamb  of  God,  on 
whose  mercy  he  had,  at  least,  a  traditional  belief. 


168  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

For  lie  felt  that  he  had  been  very  near  to  the  gates  of 
Tophet,  and  the  terror  of  the  place  was  on  him. 

But  as  the  hours  went  on  in  glory  and  song  and 
sunshine,  the  feeling  grew  less  distinct.  He  told  him- 
self that,  under  no  circumstances,  would  he  have  be- 
haved in  a  manner  so  vulgarly  impious  and  indiffer- 
ent ;  and  he  made  a  new  resolution  never  again  to 
play  any  game  contaminated  by  a  bet  or  stake.  In 
that  day  of  examination  he  admitted  his  faults,  his 
ungovernable  temper,  his  extravagance,  his  idleness, 
his  fitful  craving  for  change  and  excitement,  his  con- 

O  O  ' 

stant  neglect  of  all  religious  duties.  But  he  also  re- 
minded himself  that  he  had  many  good  points :  he 
did  not  drink  ;  he  was  a  loyal,  and,  for  the  most  part, 
an  affectionate  husband  :  he  was  fond  of  his  children  ; 
lie  read  good  literature ;  he  felt,  as  most  irreligious 
men  do  feel,  a  great  interest  in  spiritual  ideas  ;  and  he 
really  liked  a  theological  discussion.  He  excused 
himself  for  his  love  of  play;  he  considered  it  an 
hereditary  passion,  a  rather  respectable  thing,  if  he 
kept  it  in  control.  He  was  fond  of  telling  stories  of 
his  grandfather's  reckless  and  fortunate  bets,  and  of 
his  father  losing  and  winning  thousands  at  a  sitting. 
To  such  thoughts  as  these  he  smoked  the  hours  away  on 
the  shady  veranda ;  feeling  rather  pleased  with  himself 
for  his  candid  examination  of  his  faults  and  virtues. 
It  was,  upon  the  whole,  a  happy  day  to  him.  He 


KAY'S  LEGACY.  1C9 

watched  his  wife  and  children,  and  somehow,  by  a 
kind  of  vicarious  process,  which  he  did  not  try  to  an- 
alyze, he  felt  himself  the  better  for  their  innocence 
and  virtue. 

A  few  days  afterward,  he  was  sitting  at  his  favor- 
ite resort  on  Tremont  Street,  Galveston.  It  was  a 
hot  day,  but  he  looked  cool  and  clean,  and  very  hand- 
some, in  his  white  linen  suit  and  white  chip  hat,  and 
the  pleasant  wavering  shadows  of  the  china  trees  all 
over  him.  He  was  thinking  about  money,  and  his 
thoughts  were  anxious  ones.  But  just  as  he  had 
come  to  that  hopeless  point  at  which  he  usually 
abandoned  reflection,  a  lawyer  whom  he  knew  very 
well,  said  : 

"  Good-morning,  Briffault.  Did  you  get  my  letter 
about  Ratcliffe's  legacy  ? " 

"What  legacy?" 

"  You  know  he  has  left  you  twenty  thousand  dol- 
lars?" 

"I  know  nothing  of  the  kind.  "Why  should  he 
leave  me  money  ?  " 

"  Why  should  he  not  leave  you  money  ?  He  left 
Dacrc  twenty  thousand  dollars,  and  Jennings  ten 
thousand  dollars.  If  you  will  call  this  afternoon,  we 
can  settle  the  matter.  Good-morning." 

It  was  easy  enough  now  for  Raymund  to  resume 
the  thinking  process.  He  considered  that  he  had  a 


170  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BHIFFAULT. 

fine  house  and  land  and  servants  and  horses  and  car- 
riages. He  had  credit,  also,  for  every  article  of 
necessity  or  luxury  that  he  could  desire.  The  one 
thing  that  he  wanted — the  one  thing  of  which  he 
never  had  sufficient — was  ready  money.  He  thought 
of  twenty  thousand  dollars  ;  it  seemed  such  a  piece  of 
good  fortune  to  him.  But  it  was  not  very  respect- 
able money ;  every  cent  of  it  had  been  made  at  the 
gambling- table  or  the  liquor  bar.  He  felt  as  if  there 
was  a  kind  of  dishonor  in  accepting  it.  Though  why 
it  should  be  more  dishonorable  to  accept  Ilatcliffe's 
winnings  than  to  pocket  his  own  was  one  of  those 
singular  points  of  distinction  only  clear  to  a  gambler. 

Going  up  the  street,  a  little  later,  he  met  Dacre 
and  Jennings.  The  men  were  never  far  apart ;  they 
were  finger-and-thumb,  hand-and-glove  partners  in 
every  game.  They  loaned  each  other  money,  and 
stood  by  each  other  in  their  quarrels;  and  these 
obligations  fully  covered  their  idea  of  friendship. 
Dacre  was  a  tall  swarthy  man,  with  a  fierce,  swagger- 
ing air ;  Jennings  was  an  Englishman,  with  the  sharp, 
red  face  of  a  fox,  and  a  perpetual  snarl  in  his  voice. 

"  Good-morning,  Briffault." 

"  Good-morning,  sir." 

"Briffault,  if  you  will  put  ten  thousand  dollars 
down,  I  will  put  ten  thousand  dollars,  and  Jennings 
will  put  five  thousand  dollars,  and  we  will  buy  that 


RAY'S  LEGACY.  171 

cavallard  of  horses  at  Dilke's  Station.  The  govern- 
ment have  proposals  out  for  double  the  number.  They 
can  be  driven  to  Forts  Ware  and  Ringold,  and  we  shall 
make  dollar  for  dollar.  It  is  a  good  thing,  Briffault." 

"I  have  no  doubt  of  it.  Why,  then,  don't  you 
and  Jennings  work  it  without  me  ?  You  could,  you 
know?" 

"  Yes,  sir-r !  we  could.  But  we  have  other  plans. 
Neither  of  us  care  to  leave  the  cards  when  we  have 
so  much  gold  to  handle  them  with.  We'll  go  it 
equal — half  for  trade  and  half  for  play;  and  I'll  bet 
you  one  hundred  dollars  that  playing  pays  the  best." 

"  I  will  think  over  it,  gentlemen,  and  let  you  know 
to-morrow." 

"  No,  to-night.  We  must  buy  to-rnorrow,  or  else  I 
reckon  we'll  be  after  time.  Slatey  is  running  the 
old  shop ;  you  can  call  in  there.  Say  seven  o'clock  ?" 

"Very  well." 

Briffault  was  apparently  calm,  but  he  was  really 
full  of  excitement.  This  was  the  very  opening  he 
had  been  longing  for.  He  would  go  with  the  caval- 
lard himself,  and  employ  his  own  servants.  He  had 
felt  life  terribly  stupid  and  dull,  and  here  was  the 
very  work  he  could  do.  Then  the  enormous  profits ! 
It  was  safer,  also,  than  gambling,  and  he  felt  that  he 
must  do  something  with  his  money.  His  money ! 
Yes,  he  had  fully  accepted  it ;  and  at  seven  o'clock 


172  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

lie  met  Dacre  and  Jennings,  and  the  compact  was 
made  and  signed.  The  men  had  hardly  expected  that 
Briffault  would  go  himself  to  the  frontier,  but  they 
were  well  pleased  when  he  proposed  it.  In  money 
matters  the  family  had  an  honorable  name,  and  Brif- 
faulfc  was  a  man  likely  to  look  well  after  any  under- 
taking of  which  he  had  the  absolute  control.  The 
following  day  Raymund  went  home.  He  was  anx- 
ious to  tell  Cassia  of  the  fortune  that  had  come  to 
him,  and  yet  at  the  bottom  of  his  heart  there  was 
the  conviction  that  she  would  regard  the  legacy  as 
unacceptable.  It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  he 
reached  Briffault,  and  the  moment  he  saw  his  wife 
he  perceived  that  something  had  greatly  annoyed 
her.  She  was  walking  restlessly  about  the  parlor,  and 
there  was  a  scarlet  flush  on  her  cheeks,  very  unusual 
to  their  delicate  tint.  She  gave  him  no  time  to  ask 
her  any  question.  As  soon  as  she  had  greeted  him 
she  cried  out,  in  a  voice  trembling  with  emotion  : 

"  O  Hay,  my  dear,  Mrs.  Dacre  called  here  to-day, 
and  she  says  Ratcliffe  left  you  twenty  thousand  dol- 
lars. You !  Put  you  on  a  level  with  Dacre  and 
Jennings!  Forgive  me,  Ray,  but  it  is  such  an  insult. 
I  have  been  burning  with  shame  ever  since  I  heard 
it !  I  can  tell  you  I  spoke  my  mind  very  freely  to 
Mrs.  Dacre." 

"  I  am  sorry  you  did,  Cassia.     It  was  very  foolish. 


HAY'S  LEGACY.  173 

Money  is  money,  and  it  is  too  late  A.  D.  to  have  any 
Quixotic  notions  about  it." 

"  Ray !  you  surely  don't  intend  to  take  Dick  Rat- 
cliff  e's  money  ? " 

"  I  do  not  intend  to  refuse  it." 

"Then  bring  none  of  it  here,  Ray.  I  wont  touch 
it.  I  will  want,  I  will  see  my  children  want,  ere  we 
will  eat  such  sinful  bread.  Ratcliffe  raked  it  out  of 
hell ;  yes,  he  did !  You  know  how  he  died.  It  is 
worse  than  blood  money  ! " 

He  lit  a  cigar  and  answered,  calmly  : 

"  Don't  go  into  heroics,  Cassia.  There  is  no  use 
having  trouble  about  the  matter.  It  would  be  an 
absurd  thing  for  a  man  to  ask  every  dollar  for  its 
pedigree.  In  that  case  you  would  have  to  want.  I 
don't  believe  there  is  a  clean  piece  of  money  in  the 
world,  unless  it  is  in  the  mint ;  and  I  would  not  be 
sure  of  it,  even  then." 

"  That  is  a  forced  argument.  "We  have  nothing  to 
do  with  the  antecedents  of  money.  "We  have  only 
to  be  sure  that  it  comes  into  our  pocket  in  some  way 
that  we  can  ask  God's  blessing  on  it.  To  a  good 
spender,  God  is  treasurer ;  dare  you  kneel  down  and 
ask  him  to  keep  Ratcliffe's  money  for  you?  No, 
you  dare  not.  It  is  money  with  the  devil's  mintage 
mark  upon  it ;  don't  touch  it,  Ray.  And  why  should 
he  leave  his  shameful  earnings  to  you  ?  Put  you  on 


174  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

the  same  level  as  Dacre  and  Jennings !  Had  lie  any 
spite  at  you  ?  Did  lie  wish  to  disgrace  yon  ?  Why 
should  he  give  you  twenty  thousand  dollars  ? " 

"My  father  and  grandfather  lost  a  great  deal  of 
gold  in  his  place ;  perhaps  it  is  conscience'  money." 

"  No,  no,  no !  Gamblers  have  no  consciences. 
They  have  no  souls,  and  no  affections,  and  very  little 
intelligence.  A  professional  gambler,  like  Ratcliffe 
was,  has  nothing  of  his  humanity  left  but  ten  fingers 
to  shuffle  cards  with.  O  Ray,  don't  be  angry  with 
me!  I  am  pleading  for  you,  and  for  our  little  chil- 
dren. Don't  touch  that  money,  I  entreat  you.  It  is 
the  devil's  coin.  He  wants  to  buy  your  soul  with  it. 
Will  you  take  twenty  thousand  dollars  for  eternity  ? " 

She  was  under  great  excitement,  and  weeping  bit- 
terly. Ray  rose  impatiently,  but,  controlling  himself 
by  a  great  effort,  he  answered,  with  forced  calmness  : 

"  Look  here,  Cassia,  I  will  not  listen  to  another  word 
of  such  nonsense.  I  have  already  invested  ten  thou- 
sand dollars  of  the  money  in  horses,  and  I  am  going  to 
the  western  forts  with  them.  I  am  tired  to  death  of 
hanging  about  the  house  and  of  cultivating  land  that 
makes  a  failure  of  its  crop  every  year.  If  I  do  not 
get  into  business  soon  the  place  will  be  eaten  up  with 
debt,  and  there  will  be  nothing  left  for  me  but  a  hand 
in  Dacre's  and  Jennings's  games.  You  ought  to  be 
glad  of  such  an  opportunity  for  me.  It  is  a  respect- 


RAY'S  LEGACY.  175 

able    business,    and    one    that    will    give    me    tine 
profits." 

"  You  are  beginning  it  with  Ratcliffe's  money.  I 
would  rather  you  sold  Briffault,  if  you  want  capital. 
I  don't  care  how  profitable  a  business  is,  if  you  have 
the  devil  for  a  partner  in  it.  Nay,  dear  Ray,  what 
shall  it  profit  if  you  gain  the  whole  world  and 
lose—" 

He  would  not  let  her  finish  the  sentence.  He  rose 
in  a  passion,  and  Cassia,  as  yet  undisciplined  by  sor- 
row, flung  herself  upon  a  couch  in  an  abandon  of 
grief  and  indignation. 

But  Ray's  mind  was  fully  made  up.  Though  he 
respected  her  scruples  in  his  inmost  heart,  he  was 
angry  at  her  for  compelling  him  to  scorn  them. 

"  She  need  not  have  forced  such  an  alternative  on 
me,"  he  thought,  "  and  she  might  have  known  that 
when  I  made  plenty  of  money  she  could  have  all  she 
desired  for  her  chapel  and  her  charities.  Yes,  in- 
deed," he  added,  in  a  little  burst  of  self-deception, 
"  if  I  could  afford  it  I  would  gladly  build  the  chapel 
that  John  was  speaking  about  at  Shallow  Springs." 
And  the  infatuated  man  never  perceived  that  he  was 
precisely  indorsing  the  action  of  the  sinner  who  stole 
the  leather  and  gave  the  shoes  to  God. 

He  left  in  two  days  for  the  West,  and  Cassia,  in 
her  distress,  went  to  see  madam  about  the  matter. 


176  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

Her  pale  face  and  red  eyes  irritated  the  old  lady. 
She  could  iiot  endure  women  who  wept. 

"  If  you  did  not  want  him  to  go,"  she  said,  scorn- 
fully, "  you  should  have  made  his  home  more  attract- 
ive. You  could  have  invited  Dacre  and  Jennings 

O 

here,  and  given  them  an  empty  room,  and  a  table, 
and  a  pack  of  cards.  What  are  you  crying  for  ? " 

"  The  sin  of  it !  And  the  constant  temptation  to 
ein." 

"  Did  you  imagine  that  Raymund  Briffault  was  a 
saint  when  you  married  him  ?  Bah  !  you  knew  bet- 
ter. The  house  and  the  land  and  Ray  himself  have 
all  been  doing  badly  enough  for  the  last  three  years. 
It  is  quite  time  he  began  to  make  money  in  some  way 
or  other." 

"  I — will — not — touch — a — dime — of  such  money. 
I  will  not,  if  I  know  it,  madam." 

"  It  is  so  easy  to  be  ignorant  when  one  wants  to  be 
ignorant.  I  dare  say  you  will  find  a  way  to  touch  it 
— without  sinning." 

"  I  will  play  no  tricks  with  my  conscience..  I  will 
try  and  manage  the  plantation  to  better  purpose.  I 
came  to  ask  you  to  help  me.  When  father  and  John 
were  away  I  did  very  well  with  the  Preston  ranch. 
Every  one  says  you  made  Briffault  pay.  Please, 
madam,  assist  me  with  your  advice ;  then  I  think  I 
can  manage  it." 


RAY'S  LEGACY.  177 

"  Now  you  talk  sensibly.  I  respect  a  woman  who 
is  mistress  of  herself.  What  is  the  use  of  crying 
when  you  have  a  pair  of  hands  ?  Tears  only  poison 
life.  There  is  at  least  a  living  in  the  old  land,  and 
the  garden  and  dairy  and  poultry  ought  to  be  better 
looked  after.  But  you  can  do  nothing  without  Kay's 
authority.  When  he  returns  from  this  trip  get  it, 
then  I  will  tell  you  what  to  do." 

Madam's  co-operation  was  necessary  in  order  to  pre- 
vent her  opposition,  and  Cassia  felt  the  h'rst  success- 
ful step  to  her  project  had  been  taken  ;  for  though  a 
person  may  not  have  much  power  to  help,  they  may 
have  power  to  do  a  great  deal  of  injury  ;  and  madam, 
though  she  pretended  entire  seclusion,  still  contrived 
to  make  her  influence  felt  in  every  part  of  the  house- 
hold arrangements.  Unfortunately  for  Cassia,  John 
was  not  at  home  to  advise  her.  He  had  entered  into 
some  new  plan  for  preserving  fresh  beef,  and  the  in- 
terests of  the  concern  took  him  frequently  to  the  gulf 
coast,  and  not  unfreqnently  very  far  west,  in  order  to 
buy  cattle  for  the  purpose. 

So  Cassia  passed  the  days  as  contentedly  as  she 
could  with  her  children.  From  prayer  she  gathered 
hope,  and  they  who  live  in  hope  breathe  the  sweet  air 
of  futurity.  As  near  as  it  was  possible,  she  also  en- 
deavored to  reach  the  goal  of  an  existence  in  which 

she  would  speak  much  oftener  to  God  than  to  the 
12 


178  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

world ;  for  she  had  already  apprehended  that  life's 
great  secret  of  peace  is  to  avoid  the  feverish  contact  of 
mankind. 

As  for  Hay,  he  was  at  this  time  very  happy.  The 
life  upon  which  he  had  entered  had  all  the  charm  of 
novelty.  He  exercised  an  absolute  power  over  his 
small  company  ;  there  was  just  danger  enough  to  sup- 
ply a  pleasant  excitement,  and  at  the  forts  he  met 
several  old  acquaintances.  The  sales  were  unusually 
good  ;  he  very  nearly  realized  all  that  Dacre  had  an- 
ticipated. And,  as  he  was  returning  with  such  a 
large  sum  of  money,  he  had  an  escort  from  a  cavalry 
company  until  he  met  a  body  of  "  rangers,"  who  again 
rode  with  him  until  he  reached  the  settlements.  So 
there  were  pleasant  trials  of  speed  in  the  cool  morn- 
ings, and  merry  "noonings"  and  "campings,"  with 
their  plentiful,  rough  meals,  and  their  sense  of  liberty 
and  good-fellowship.  Ray's  previous  ideas  of  life 
were  thoroughly  unsettled,  and  he  looked  back  upon 
the  prosaic  business  of  planting  corn  and  cotton  as  in- 
tolerably stupid  and  monotonous. 

On  his  return  he  was  quite  willing  to  resign  the 
care  of  the  plantation  to  Cassia  and  madam.  He  had 
great  faith  in  madam's  abilities  ;  and  he  felt  that  he 
had  fully  done  his  duty  when  he  insisted  that  if  any 
emergency  arose  he  should  be  appealed  to  and  allowed 
to  meet  it.  But  Cassia  was  determined  such  emer- 


RAY'S  LEGACY.  179 

gencies  should  never  come ;  she  would  keep  the  ex- 
penses far  below  their  usual  level,  and  she  would 
refuse  every  luxury  of  food,  dress,  or  appointments 
which  the  income  from  the  plantation  did  not  war- 
rant. In  Dick  Ratcliffe's  money  neither  herself  nor 
her  children  should  have  part  or  portion.  She  refused 
to  take  any  interest  in  its  success ;  she  would  not  ask 
Ray  about  it,  nor  care  either  as  to  its  investments,  its 
losses,  or  its  gains. 

She  had,  however,  assumed  a  very  difficult  task. 
The  servants,  conscious  that  Ray  was  not  at  home, 
nor  likely  to  interfere  with  them  if  he  was  at  home, 
robbed  and  wronged  her.  She  was  compelled,  in 
sheer  self-defense,  to  be  constantly  changing  "  hands," 
and  for  this  very  reason  got  an  ill  name  she  by  no 
means  deserved.  Madam  could  give  her  excellent 
advice,  but  she  could  not  insure  its  carrying  out.  In 
her  own  days  of  management  the  code  for  mistress 
and  servant  had  been  a  simple  and  effective  one — 
"  Do  this,"  and  it  was  done  ;  "  Go  yonder,"  and  they 
went.  Things  had  quite  changed.  Servants  now 
obeyed  orders  at  their  own  time  and  will,  and  they 
went  where  they  were  sent,  if  it  fell  in  with  their 
own  wish  to  go. 

As  time  passed  on,  she  often  felt  the  pinch  of  that 
cruel  poverty  which  must  be  borne  and  concealed. 
She  had  to  work  hard,  to  save  at  every  corner,  and 


180  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

yet  to  borrow  frequently  from  John.  Her  self-denial 
did  not  seem  to  have  been  as  blessed  as  she  had  hoped 
it  would  have  been.  Often  she  was  tempted  to  say, 
u  In  vain  have  I  washed  my  hands  in  innocency."  She 
had  had  such  bright  dreams  of  almost  impossible  suc- 
cess. She  thought  she  would  prove  to  Eay  that,  in 
the  end,  the  path  of  virtue  was  the  path  of  profit  as 
well  as  the  path  of  happiness.  But  three  years  had 
passed  away,  and  the  results  had  all  been  of  that  kind 
which  make  labor  most  depressing.  No  great  calam- 
ity had  swept  away  her  increase,  but  she  thought  she 
could  almost  have  borne  calamity  better  than  the  nig- 
gardly results  which  just,  with  constant  worry,  pre- 
vented her  toil  being  a  failure. 

And  she  was  conscious  that  Ray's  life  was,  as  re- 
garded herself,  a  greater  failure  than  her  own.  His 
quiet  gentlemanly  manners  had  gradually  been  lost 
in  those  of  the  bravo.  The  latter  character  had  been 
at  first  assumed,  but  it  is  easy  to  play  a  bad  part 
until  it  becomes  a  natural  one.  And  the  worst  feat- 
ure of  the  change  in  Ray  was,  that  the  deluded  man 
approved  it.  He  looked  back  with  a  shrug  of 
annoyance  to  the  days  of  his  dreaming  leisure,  his 
desultory  intellectual  efforts,  his  placid  domestic  joys, 
and  his  occasional  weekly  sacrifice  with  his  family  to 
the  duty  of  Sabbath  worship.  And  it  is  true  enough 
they  had  been  days  of  mere  negative  goodness ;  but 


HAY'S  LEGACY.  181 

O,  how  much  more  hopeful  and  innocent  than  those 
which  followed!  For  he  had  learned  to  drink,  and 
his  easily-earned  dollars  rang  readily  on  saloon  coun- 
ters ;  and  when  he  was  flush  of  money  it  was  a  part 
of  gambling  honor  to  play  deeply.  This  hard  life  of 
toil  and  excess,  alternating  with  mental  excitement, 
soon  told  disastrously  upon  him,  both  physically  and 
morally. 

Every  time  he  returned  home  the  change  was 
more  apparent.  Sometimes  his  absences  were  short ; 
sometimes  they  extended  over  weeks,  perhaps 
months.  But,  however  long  he  stayed  away,  he  was 
quite  certain  of  finding  Dacre  and  Jennings  arid  the 
little  hunchback  at  their  usual  place,  in  what  had 
been  Ratcliffe's  bar.  The  tie  between  these  men 
and  Raymund  Briffault  had  been,  from  the  first,  a  cir- 
cumstantial one.  It  had  arisen  out  of  the  accident 
of  their  having  money  to  invest  at  the  same  time, 
rather  than  from  any  personal  sympathy.  At  first 
Dacre  and  Jennings  had  been  proud  of  their  associa- 
tion with  Briffault,  and  inclined  to  defer  to  him  in 
all  things ;  but  the  deterioration  of  his  character  dis- 
pleased them.  They  grew  suspicious  of  his  integrity, 
for  it  is  a  queer  fact  that  no  class  of  men  resent  dis- 
honor or  dishonesty  toward  themselves  more  bitterly 
than  thieves  and  gamblers  do.  So  the  alliance,  which 
had  been  found  at  Ratcliffe's  death,  broke  up  at  the 


182  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

end  of  the  third  year,  and  was  finally  dissolved  with 
much  hard  feeling  and  many  bitter  words. 

Raymund  had  handled  a  great  deal  of  money 
during  these  three  years ;  but  he  had  also  squan- 
dered a  great  deal,  and  he  was  very  little  richer 
now  than  when  the  partnership  was  formed.  He 
claimed  twenty-two  thousand  dollars,  but  Dacre 
so  reluctantly  allowed  the  claim,  that  Ray  became 
suspicious  of  some  secret  ill-deed  ;  and  he  caught 
one  glance  of  Dacro's  eyes,  so  vindictive  and  hate- 
ful, that  he  resolved  to  go  to  New  Orleans  until  his 
anger  wore  itself  away.  It  was  September  when 
he  went ;  it  was  the  following  February  when  he 
returned.  Men  do  not  become  altogether  wicked  all 
at  once  ;  Ray  had  still  many  passing  good  impulses. 
But  good  impulses  are  of  little  value,  unless  they 
crystallize  into  good  actions  ;  and  though  Ray's  heart 
often  softened  to  the  thought  of  his  children,  and  of 
their  mother  praying  with  them,  the  thought  brought 
forth  no  good  fruit.  On  the  night  of  his  return 
from  l\"ew  Orleans  he  came  unexpectedly  into  just 
such  a  scene.  Cassia  rose  from  her  knees,  the  tears 
still  wet  on  her  cheeks,  to  welcome  him.  He  could 
no  more  doubt  the  truth  of  her  piety  than  he  could 
doubt  her  delight  in  his  return.  He  kissed  the 
tears  tenderly  away,  and  his  heart  filled,  as  he  bent 
over  his  innocent  children. 


RAY'S  LEGACY.  183 

Then  there  was  a  little  festival  made.  Madam,  in 
her  distant  room,  heard  the  unusual  voice  and  move- 
ment, and  the  faint  echoes  of  Cassia's  voice  in  its 
happy  inflections.  After  awhile  Ray  went  to  see 
madam.  There  were  changes  of  which  she  was, 
perhaps,  unconscious,  but  which  he  noted  instantly. 
The  room,  as  usual,  was  brilliantly  lighted,  but 
Josepha  had  never  been  able  to  give  it  the  same  air 
of  antique  and  stately  sumptuousness  which  distin- 
guished it  during  Souda's  oversight.  Madam,  also, 
was  a  little  less  carelessly  dressed.  An  Indian  shawl, 
of  magnificent  coloring,  covered  the  sofa  on  which 
she  reclined,  but  her  garments  were  altogether  black, 
and  against  them  the  pallor  of  her  face  and  her 
snow-white  hair  were  very  remarkable.  She  was 
much  thinner,  but  her  black  eyes  were  as  bright  as 
ever,  and  Ray  was  pained  and  struck  by  their  expres- 
sion, it  was  so  anxious  and  restless.  He  remembered 
that  he  had  once  before  seen  just  such  a  look  in  the 
eyes  of  a  little  child  who  had  lost  herself  on  the  wharf 
at  New  Orleans.  There  was  the  ocean  before  her, 
the  shouting  and  confusion  of  men  and  horses  and 
wagons  upon  all  sides,  and  she  had  looked  into  Ray's 
face  with  the  same  anguished  inquiry,  the  same  fear 
and  anxiety  and  pathetic  grief.  Perhaps,  had  he 
cared  to  analyze  the  circumstances,  he  might  have 
found  the  reason  of  the  similarity.  Before  madam 


184  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

lay  the  great  ocean  of  eternity.  All  around  her 
pressed  memories  of  shame  and  sin  and  sorrow. 
They  were  crowding  her  to  the  very  brink  of  the 
unknown.  Her  soul  was  shivering  and  fearing,  and, 
with  a  pathetic  entreaty,  looking  through  the  only 
gratings  of  its  fleshly  prison-house  for  some  friend 
strong  enough  to  give  help  or  comfort. 

She  hoped  nothing  from  Raymund,  however.  His 
conduct  had  disappointed  and  humiliated  her.  She 
noticed,  at  once,  that  he  had  grown  coarser  in  ap- 
pearance, and  was  more  carelessly  dressed. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  see  you,  Ray,"  she  said ;  "  you  are 
looking  much  worse.  A  man  may  be  bad  without 
becoming  vulgar.  Look  at  your  great-grandfather. 
Every  man  of  your  family  dressed  like  a  gentleman. 
It  is  the  next  thing  to  behaving  like  one." 

"  Pardon  me,  madam.   I  am  just  off  a  long  j  ourney ." 

"And  I  thought  Cassia  was  going  to  make  you  re- 
spectable and  pious.  It  is  a  poor  family  that  has 
not  one  saint  in  it.  Cassia  has  failed,  I  see." 

The  conversation  was  taking  an  unpleasant  turn. 
Ray  excused  himself,  and  left  the  miserable  old 
voman  ;  but  at  the  door  she  recalled  him. 

"  Do  you  go  into  Galveston  soon  ?  " 

"  To-morrow." 

"  Call  upon  Souda ;  tell  her  to  come  and  see  me." 

Ray  had  lost  most  of  his  money  in  New  Orleans, 


KAY'S  LEGACY.  185 

he  wanted  to  borrow  some,  and  he  could  think  of  no 
one  so  likely  to  oblige  him  as  Dacre.  For  he  had  for- 
gotten the  hard  words  that  had  passed  between  them, 
and  he  judged  that  Dacre  would  have  also  done  the 
same.  There  was  a  wet  norther  blowing,  and  he 
shivered  as  he  passed  hurriedly  along  the  deserted 
streets  of  Galveston  and  out  of  them  over  the  deso- 
late sea-shore.  He  did  not  meet  a  soul  on  his  way  to 
Ratcllffe's ;  but  as  he  pushed  aside  the  door  the  fa- 
miliar rattle  of  the  dice  fell  upon  his  ear.  At  Dacre's 
old  table,  however,  only  strangers  were  sitting.  He 
glanced  at  them,  and  then  went  up  to  the  bar,  where 
the  same  man,  a  little  redder-eyed,  handed  him,  with- 
out a  word,  a  bottle  and  a  glass.  Eay  nodded  his 
head  backward,  and  asked, 

"Where  are  they?" 

"  Gone." 

"All  of  them?" 

"  The  same  thing.  Teddy,  the  hunchback,  lost  his 
last  copper,  went  outside,  and  we  found  him  hanging 
from  the  beam  in  the  horse-shed.  Jennings  bought 
him  a  coffin  ;  might  easy — won  a  thousand  from  him." 

"  Jennings  ?     Where  is  he  ?  " 

"Dacre  shot  him.  They  got  into  a  dispute  one 
night — somehow  pistols  went  off  promiscuous  like. 
Jennings  fell  dead.  It  was  an  accident,  but  Dacre 
lost  his  head  after  it ;  he's  clean  crazy." 


1S6  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

"  Where  is  he  ? " 

"  Behind  you.  He's  quiet  enough,  and  Slatey  says, 
'Let  him  alone,'  says  he.  '  He  don't  harm  any  one, 
and  he  wont  stay  away.' " 

Kay  turned  as  the  man  spoke.  Dacre  sat  on  a  ,ow 
cowhide  chair,  his  arms  upon  his  knees,  his  restless 
twitching  hands  shuffling  unceasingly  a  lot  of  dirty 
cards.  His  eyes  were  sunken,  his  large  nose  abnor- 
mally prominent,  his  lips  constantly  moving  and  mut- 
tering. Ray  spoke  to  him.  He  took  no  notice  of 
him  whatever. 

"  Give  him  something  to  eat  and  drink.  That's  all 
he  cares  for,  now." 

The  man  offered  him  a  plate  of  crackers  and  a 
bottle.  Dacre  seized  them,  and  eat  and  drank  vora- 
ciously, but  with  a  mere  animal  instinct,  and  without 
intelligence  or  appreciation.  This  was  dementia — the 
death  of  the  soul.  The  wretched  man  could  digest, 
and  he  could  not  think. 

"  The  doctor  says  it's  fright ;  that's  nonsense.  He 
had  lost  all  his  money ;  Jennings  had  cleaned  him 
out,  too." 

But  Ray  did  not  wait  to  hear  the  explanation. 
Dacre  terrified  him.  He  went  quickly  out  of  the 
place  ;  and  for  days  he  could  not  rid  himself  of  the 
hcrror  which  this  terrible  •  living  apparition  had 
given  him. 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  GATE.  187 


CHAPTER  VII. 
THE  MAN  AT  THE  GATE. 

:t  A  cold  wind  blows  out  of  the  starry  North — 

Strange  doors  stand  wide, 
And  hidden  things,  and  things  long  past,  come  forth 

And  will  not  be  denied. 
Though  some  be  terrible  and  sad  to  face, 
And  the  heart  mourneth  stricken  in  her  place." 

"  A  heavenly  thing  for  us,  as  well  as  for  him  we  love, 

To  have  one  so  dear  in  glory  set  at  the  King's  right  hand  above." 

FIFTY  years  before  this  date  Burke  Briffault  had 
built,  far  down  the  island,  a  sea-side  residence  for 
the  three  hot  months.  It  had  then  been  quite  isolated 
in  its  little  nest  of  myrtles  and  oleanders,  but  the  city 
had  gradually  crept  up  to  it,  and  even  beyond  it,  and 
for  a  long  time  it  had  been  falling  to  decay.  "When 
madam's  first  anger  at  Souda's  defection  was  over,  she 
remembered  the  place,  and  gave  her  permission  to 
occupy  it.  Then  the  fences  and  blinds  were  repaired, 
and  Souda's  deft  hands  trained  and  trimmed  the  shrubs 
and  vines,  and  made  the  empty,  desolate  rooms  clean 
and  comfortable.  They  were,  as  she  had  determined 
they  should  be,  a  "  home  "  for  the  sick  and  indigent 


188  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BBIFFAULT. 

of  the  old  Briffault  servants.  She  had  no  trouble  with 
them.  When  they  came  to  her  they  were  sick  or  in 
want,  and  their  habit  of  obedience  was  still  upon 
them.  Sou  da  had  been  a  woman  of  great  importance 
always  in  their  eyes,  and  they  continued  to  pay  her  a 
respect,  not  unmingled  with  a  little  wholesome  fear. 
On  the  bitterly  cold  morning,  which  was  marked  by 
Raymund's  visit  to  Ratcliffe's  old  bar,  Souda's  house 
was  very  much  crowded,  but  Jane  had  the  chair  she 
had  been  promised — the  comfortable,  soft  chair  in  the 
warmest  corner,  by  the  big  wood  fire.  Her  blue, 
homespun  dress  was  clean  and  tidy,  her  turban  white 
as  snow,  and  the  little  woolen  shawl,  pinned  across  her 
breast,  was  of  the  gayest  colors.  She  sat  in  the  pleas- 
ant warmth  braiding  corn  shucks  into  straw,  often 
letting  the  pretty  work  fall  to  her  knee,  in  order  to 
converse  more  freely  with  an  old  negress  by  her  side, 
who  was  evidently  a  stranger,  and  a  sick  and  sorrow- 
ful one.  They  were  telling  each  other  of  the  trials 
they  had  been  through,  and  perhaps  Jane  was  not  as 
thoughtful  as  she  might  have  been,  but  Souda  never 
complained,  or  interrupted  her.  At  length  they  be- 
gan to  sing,  softly  patting  their  feet  and  hands  to  the 
mournful  little  melody,  so  full  of  miserable  memories  : 

"  '  0,  nobody  knows  de  trouble  I've  seen  1 
Nobody  knows  but  Jesus  1 
0  yes,  Lord  1 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  GATE.  18D 

Sometimes  Fm  up,  sometimes  I'm  down, 

0  yes,  Lord ! 
Sometimes  I'm  way  down  on  de  groun'  1 

Oyes,  Lordl'" 

Souda  was  ironing.  She  stood  at  her  board  amonp; 
the  drift  of  snowy  linen,  and  listened.  Tall  and 
black  and  strong,  and  wearing  a  turban  of  many 
colors,  and  a  large  white  apron,  she  was  an  ideal 
picture  of  her  people.  Her  face  was  at  first  somber ; 
it  was  hard  to  read  her  thoughts ;  she  knew  not  her- 
self which  feeling  in  her  heart  predominated — sorrow, 
pity,  perhaps  a  dash  of  anger.  She  was  glad  when 
they  began  to  sing,  for  a  negress  is  never  far  off  com- 
fort when  she  can  raise  a  "spiritual."  Souda  let 
them  finish  their  complaint,  joining  herself,  in  the 
last  lingering  line  : 

"'Oyes,  Lord!'" 

but  as  soon  as  it  was  finished  she  set  them  a  nobler 
strain.  Clear  and  strong,  her  voice  rose  up,  as  a 
lark's  singing  at  the  gate  of  heaven  : 

"  '  Dore's  a  better  day  comin',  don't  you  git  weary! 
Bettor  day  a-comin',  don't  you  git  weary! 

D-re's  a  great  camp-meetin'  in  de  Promised  Landl 
0  chip  your  hand,  chillen,  don't  git  weary  ; 

Dere's  a  great  earnp-meetin'  in  de  Promised  Land. 
0  pat  your  foot,  chillen,  don't  git  weary, 

Dere's  a  great  camp-meetin'  in  de  Promised  Land. 


190  THE   LOST  SILVER  OF  BIUFFAULT. 

Gwine  to  live  wid  God  forever  I 
Live  wid  God  forever! 
Dere's  a  great  camp-meet  in', 
A  great  camp-meetin', 
In  de  Promised  Land !  '  " 

Her  foot  patted  the  wooden  floor,  her  iron  gave  em- 
phasis to  her  favorite  words ;  on  the  hearth  the  old 
women  clapped  their  old  withered  hands,  and  from 
the  upper  rooms  several  voices  took  up  the  chorus.  In 
the  middle  of  this  happy  hubbub  Raymund  knocked 
at  the  door  with  the  handle  of  his  riding-whip. 
Souda  welcomed  him  gladly,  and  he  was  thankful  to 
go  to  the  hearth  and  feel  the  cheering  warmth,  for 
a  Texas  norther  sends  a  chill  to  the  heart.  As  he 
stood  there,  booted  and  spurred,  with  his  long  cavalry 
cloak  over  his  shoulders,  and  his  whip  in  his  hand, 
Souda  was  proud  of  her  old  master.  "  Mighty  hand- 
some fambly  de  Briffaults,"  she  thought,  complacent- 
ly ;  and  when  Kay  said  to  Jane,  "  Sit  down,  Jane,  sit 
down,  you  have  earned  the  right  to  sit;"  she  added, 
mentally,  u  all  ob  dem  gentlemen  eben  to  a  poor  ole 
nigger  woman." 

"  How  am  de  madam,  Mass'  Ray?"  she  asked. 

"  She  wants  to  see  you,  Souda.  That  is  why  1 
called." 

"  Jist  as  soon  as  de  norther  is  ober  I'll  go  to 
Briffault." 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  GATE.  101 

"Can  I  do  any  thing  to  help  you,  Souda?  I  dare 
say  you  have  a  house  full.  " 

"  Got  four  of  de  ole  men,  sar,  and  three  of  de 
women,  and  a  lot  of  de  young  ones  running  in  and 
out." 

"  Suppose  I  send  you  a  few  loads  of  wood  ?  I  ought 
to  help,  you  know." 

"  I'll  be  mighty  thankful,  Mass'  Kay  ;  I  will,  fur 
sure  !  " 

"  Do  you  know  where  John  Preston  is  \ " 

"  Not  jist  now.  He'll  be  here  to-morrow  night, 
fur  de  class-meetin',  sar." 

"  O !     Well,  good-bye,  Souda." 

He  put  a  couple  of  dollars  in  Jane's  hand,  and 
went  out  again  into  the  "  norther."  He  felt  wretched, 
and  every  thing  lie  saw  seemed  to  add  to  his  sense 
of  the  incongruity  of  the  world  in  which  he  found 
himself.  And  that  awful  phantom  of  the  Dacre  he 
had  known  !  He  could  not  rid  himself  of  the  memory 
of  it.  He  rode  back  home  at  a  hard  gallop ;  he 
wanted  to  talk  the  tragedy  over  with  Cassia.  And 
when  he  had  told  her,  he  took  out  his  pocket-book, 
and  laid  thirty  dollars  and  some  silver  coins  upon  the 
table  before  him. 

"  Cassia,  that  is  all  now  left  of  Ratcliffe's  money. 
He  was  thirty  years  making  it ;  it  is  very  little  more 
than  three  years  since  it  was  divided.  Jennings  got 


192  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

possession  of  two  thirds,  but  he  was  killed  in  the 
moment.  Nobody  knows  who  he  is.  They  have 
advertised  for  his  heirs,  but  they  will  never  be  found. 
Dacre  is  worse  than  dead.  I  am  bankrupt.  It  does 
not  seem  to  have  been  a  lucky  pile." 

Cassia's  face  was  full  of  love  only.  She  was  not 
angry  nor  astonished,  nor  even  a  little  triumphant 
over  the  fulfillment  of  her  prophecy  of  evil  ending 
to  such  evilly  earned  money. 

"  Never  mind  the  past,  Ray ;  it  has  been  a  great 
mistake,  dear,  but  you  can  redeem  it  in  the  future," 
she  said,  pleasantly.  "  The  land  is  still  yours,  and 
the  home ;  surely  there  is  a  living  to  be  made  here 
yet." 

"  A  very  poor  one.  You  have  done  as  well  as  I 
ever  shall  with  the  place.  I  can  see  how  shabby  the 
house  is  getting ;  every- where  it  shows  the  want  of 
ready  money.  We  used  to  have  so  many  servants. 
I  have  noticed  how  their  number  has  dwindled  away. 
I  think  we  must  sell  Briffault  and  go  into  the  city." 

But  madam  would  not  hear  of  selling  Briffault. 
She  had  a  claim  upon  it,  and  she  would  not  relinquish 
her  hold  as  long  as  she  lived.  So  Ray  wandered 
about  the  dreary  rooms  thoroughly  hopeless  and  mis- 
erable ;  and  if  any  women  need  special  prayers  put  up 
in  their  behalf  it  is  the  wives  of  men  who  are  idle, 
and  who  loaf,  fretful  and  dissatisfied,  about  their 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  GATE.  193 

homes.  In  a  very  short  time  every  thing  annoyed 
Raymund.  The  children  were  troublesome ;  the  baby's 
cries  made  him  nervous  ;  Cassia's  never-ceasing  indus- 
try reproached  him.  She  had  at  this  time  many  bit- 
ter hours,  for  it  was  not  only  that  no  joy  came  to  her, 
but  that  the  blessings  she  had  were  robbed  of  all  their 
sweetness  by  Ray's  constant  complaining.  A  little 
money  in  the  house  keeps  men  and  women  innocent 
and  good-humored  ;  the  want  of  it  is  a  far  greater 
and  more  dangerous  want  than  we  admit.  And  when 
once  Poverty  has  put  his  foot  within  the  threshold  it 
is  astonishing  how  soon  his  decaying  finger  touches 
all  within  the  house. 

When  Souda  paid  the  visit  to  madam  she  had  prom- 
ised, there  was  something  sad  in  the  meeting  of  the 
two  women.  Souda's  new  life  had  developed  all  the 
latent  strength  and  vitality  of  her  nature ;  she  gave 
the  sensation  of  an  ample  being.  Madam  had  been 
losing  hold  of  life  ;  she  was  already  wandering  within 
the  mists  of  the  unknown  shore  to  which  she  was 
going.  It  was  pitiful  to  see  how  she  clung  to  Souda ; 
how,  forgetting  all  but  her  own  great  need  of  human 
kindness,  she  leaned  upon  her  arm  and  breast,  and 
drew  down  her  large,  bright  face,  and  kissed  it.  She 
sent  Josepha  away,  that  she  might  talk  freely  with 
the  one  friend  left  her. 

For  the  few  hours  they  were  together  Souda  tried 
13 


194  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

to  renew  the  past  for  the  woman  who  lived  only  in  it. 
She  made  her  the  cream  chocolate  she  loved,  and 
brought  it,  with  dainty  strips  of  lightly  browned  bread. 
But  when  she  went  to  the  small  ebony  buffet  for  the 
rich  cake  and  guava  jelly  that  had  always  been  kept 
there,  madam  said,  sadly  : 

"  There  is  nothing  of  that  kind  left,  Souda ;  we 
have  been  getting  poorer  every  week,  I  think.  Well, 
well !  one  may  do  without  cake  and  guava ;  but  love, 
that  is  different,  Souda  !  " 

She  spoke  bitterly  of  Raymund's  folly  ;  she  blamed 
Cassia  for  not  exercising  more  influence  over  him  ; 
the  tears  filled  her  eyes  at  Gloria's  name.  In  Souda's 
arms  all  her  pride  gave  way  for  an  hour  or  two ;  she 
acknowledged  that  she  was  forlorn  and  weary,  and 
hungry  for  some  heart  to  lean  upon.  Had  she  known 
it,  this  feeling  of  intolerable  severance  from  affection 
was  the  one  hopeful  sign  for  her  future.  It  is  those 
hearts  which,  when  love  fails,  create  for  themselves  a 
quiet,  narrow  existence,  self-conscious,  self-contem- 
plating, self-satisfied,  that  are  terrible  and  hopeless  in 
their  egotism.  The  supreme  misfortune  of  the  soul 
is  that  it  should  be  mutilated  in  all  its  senses,  and  be 
content  to  own  itself  better  off  so.  But  with  madam 
this  was  not  the  case.  Beneath  the  snows  of  age 
love  glowed.  ~No  one  she  had  ever  loved  was  forgot- 
ten. Though  she  seemed  merely  a  pale  shadow  lost 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  GATE.  195 

amid  a  new  generation,  below  the  surface  there  were 
tears,  hopes,  the  whole  vast  world  of  a  human  heart. 

It  was  in  such  tender  mood  madam  lay  that  day  and 
talked  to  Souda  of  her  husband  and  her  dead  children, 
and  of  the  two  grandchildren,  who  had  both  disap- 
pointed her.  She  was  on  her  sofa,  and  Souda  sat  on 
the  floor  at  her  side.  Sometimes  they  were  quite  si- 
lent, and  then  madam's  hand  sought  Souda's  hand, 
and  she  felt  a  great  sense  of  comfort  in  the  firm  clasp 
or  the  tender  kiss  which  met  it.  Souda  was  thinking, 
thinking,  thinking — how  was  she  to  lead  this  poor, 
desolate,  sorrowful  soul  back  to  the  Father's  home  K 
She  began  by  telling  her  of  her  own  work.  Madam 
remembered  well  all  the  slaves  she  had  ever  owned. 
Most  of  them  had  been  back  to  Souda  for  help  of 
some  kind.  Many  of  them  had  led  strange  lives  and 
seen  wonderful  things  since  they  dwelt  at  Briffault. 
It  was  easy  to  interest  madam.  She  listened  with 
profound  emotion  to  many  a  pitiful  story,  to  many  a 
marvelous  deliverance.  She  suffered  Souda  to  speak 
of  God's  interference  and  agency  without  scorn  and 
without  interruption.  At  last  she  said  : 

"  I  must  leave  you  now,  Miss  Selina,  but  I'll  come 
again  soon;  whenever  you  want  me,  Fse  allays  got 
a  day  fur  to  gibe  you." 

"  Miss  Selina !  "  The  name  had  slipped  from 
Souda's  lips  unawares.  In  the  days  when  madam  was 


196  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

young  and  lovely,  when  she  ruled  absolutely  in  Brif- 
fault,  before  her  father-in-law  and  her  husband  died, 
madam  had  been  "  Miss  Selina."  It  was  like  a  voice 
from  the  dead.  She  covered  her  face  with  her  thin, 
wasted  hands ;  and  when  Souda  knelt  down  by  her 
side  and  said,  "  I'se  awful  sorry  I  spoke  de  words ; 
dey  kind  ob  slipped  from  me,  dey  did,  indeed,"  she 
saw  that  madam  was  weeping  bitterly. 

"  I  kaint  say  de  fust  word  ob  comfort,  madam  ;  but 
O  jist  let  me  read  only  three  verses  to  you.  I'se  read 
jist  de  three  what  God  gives  me.  I  wont  know  my- 
self what  dey  is  gwine  to  be  ; "  and,  as  madam  an- 
swered neither  "  yes "  nor  "  no,"  Souda  took  her 
silence  for  consent,  and,  drawing  a  little  Testament 
from  her  pocket  and  opening  it  at  a  venture,  read : 

"  '  Either  what  woman  having  ten  pieces  of  silver, 
if  she  lose  one  piece,  doth  not  light  a  candle,  and 
sweep  the  house,  and  seek  diligently  till  she  find  it  ? 
And  when  she  hath  found  it,  she  calleth  her  friends 
and  her  neighbors  together,  saying,  Rejoice  with  me ; 
for  I  have  found  the  piece  which  I  had  lost.  Like- 
wise, I  say  unto  you,  there  is  joy  in  the  presence  of 
the  angels  of  God  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth.' ' 

"  Thank  you,  Souda !  I  have  heard  the  words 
often.  Did  I  ever  tell  you  that  my  father  was  a 
preacher — a  Methodist  preacher,  Souda  !  But  I  have 
been  lost  so  long,  so  long,"  she  muttered,  more  to  her- 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  GATE.  197 

self  than  to  Sonda,  "  the  image  and  superscription  is 
trodden  quite  away — not  even  He  would  seek  or  know 
me  for  his  own  now." 

"  De  Lord  is  gwine  to  seek  ebery  bit  ob  de  lost 
Briffault  silver ;  dar  wont  be  one  piece  ob  it  git  be- 
yond his  eye  or  de  reach  ob  his  hand.  Bless  de  Lord ! 
You'se  got  kinfolk  in  heaven  praying  fur  you.  Dey 
will  be  right  on  de  altar  steps,  holdin'  on  to  de  Lord's 
pierced  feet.  Think  he's  gwine  to  turn  dem  away  ? 
Madam  knows  better  dan  dat.  And  I'se  mighty  glad 
to  know  'bout  your  father,  de  preacher,  madam  ;  'kase 
when  I  pray  now  I'll  think  'bout  him  saying  de 
'  Amens  ! '  to  de  prayer,  eben  close  up  to  de  mercy- 
seat." 

Then  some  fine  spiritual  instinct  told  Souda  that 
the  limit  of  confidence  had  been  reached.  She  bid 
madam  "  good-night,"  and,  full  of  hope  and  prayer, 
began  her  dark  and  lonely  ride.  Madam  did  not  ring 
for  Josepha.  She  did  not  even  encourage  little  Mary 
to  remain  with  her.  For  the  first  time  in  many  a  year 
the  idea  of  solitude  was  pleasant  to  her.  She  had 
spoken  of  her  father,  and  she  could  not  put  away  the 
image  she  had  called  back  to  her.  She  remembered 
him  standing  in  the  small  pulpit,  with  his  blue  eyes 
uplifted,  and  his  white  hair  flowing  a  little  backward. 
She  remembered  his  quaint  black  clothes  and  white 
neckerchief,  his  hands  clasping  the  hymn  book,  and 


198  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

his  lips  parted  with  the  holy  words  upon  them.  The 
small  chapel,  with  its  white  walls  and  bare  seats,  the 
poplar-trees  blowing  softly  at  the  open  windows — ev- 
ery detail,  even  to  the  whistling  of  a  passing  boy, 
came  back  to  her. 

And  O,  there  are  secret  communings  with  the 
loved  departed,  which  any  human  sympathy  would 
profane !  Words  of  affection  said  too  late ;  entreat- 
ies for  pardon,  secret  confidences,  no  one  but  God 
may  hear!  Under  this  new  emotion  madam  was 
very  restless.  She  walked  to  the  window  and  looked 
out  into  the  starlit  night.  The  avenue  was  bare  and 
brown,  but  through  the  tossing  leafless  branches  one 
great  white  star  shone  with  a  wonderful  splendor. 
It  touched  another  memory — one  still  farther  back. 
She  gave  herself  up  awhile  to  the  past ;  suffered  it  to 
lead  her  in  old  paths,  and  talk  to  her  of  things  long 
forgotten.  In  this  reverie  time  passed  quickly  ;  nine 
o'clock  struck,  and  she  dropped  the  curtain  she  had 
lifted,  and.  with  a  little  shiver,  turned  toward  the  fire. 

When  she  was  half-way  across  the  room  a  move- 
ment of  the  door-handle  arrested  her  attention.  There 
was  no  noise,  but  the  handle  turned,  and  she  stood  still 
and  speechless,  watching  it.  In  a  moment  the  door 
was  pushed  softly  open  and  Gloria  entered.  She 
came  in  with  her  finger  upon  her  lips,  and  a  gesture 
that  was  an  entreaty  for  silence.  Madam  was  unable 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  GATE.  199 

to  speak  or  move,  she  stood  quite  still,  and  the  girl 
knelt  down  at  her  feet,  and  took  her  hands,  and 
whispered,  with  stifled  sobs : 

"  I  have  run  away  from  him.  O  save  me,  grand- 
ma ! " 

"  Lock  the  door." 

In  an  instant  she  was  the  madam  Gloria  had  al- 
ways known.  She  had  taken  in  at  a  glance  her 
granddaughter's  wretched  condition :  her  dress  poor 
and  shabby,  and  unfit  for  the  season ;  her  appearance 
of  ill-health  and  trouble  and  exhaustion.  She  was 
shivering  and  untidy,  and  she  looked  ten  years  older. 

"  Where  have  you  come  from,  child  ?  "  She  could 
not  refuse  her  sympathy ;  her  pity  conquered  her 
anger. 

"  From  the  Kio  Grande— all  by  myself.  I  had  a 
little  money  at  first ;  then  I  begged  a  ride  from  sta- 
tion to  station ;  people  were  very  kind  to  me." 

"  Begged  a  ride !  Why  did  you  not  write  for 
money  ?  Ray  will  never  forgive  you." 

"  I  have  written  and  written  ;  there  was  no  answer. 
I  was  hopeless  and  desperate.  Nobody  took  any 
notice  of  my  letters.  I  have  been  treated  very  cru- 
elly, I  think." 

"  Don't  forget  how  badly  you  yourself  behaved, 
miss.  Now  tell  me  the  truth  before  I  call  Ray. 
Why  did  you  leave  your  husband  ? " 


200  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

"  He  ill-used  me,  he  swore  at  me,  lie  beat  me,  and 
even  starved  me.  He  did  all  he  could  to  make  me 
die.  O,  grandma,  look  here,  and  here,  and  here," 
and  she  uncovered  her  pretty  arms  and  neck  and 
showed  the  marks  of  the  brutality  she  had  borne. 
Then  every  trace  of  madam's  softer  mood  fled. 

"  Why  did  you  not  kill  him  ? "  she  asked,  contempt- 
uously ;  "  I  would  at  the  first  blow." 

"I  was  afraid." 

Madam  looked  at  the  pale  woman  crouching  over 
the  fire,  and  felt  a  tinge  of  contempt  for  her. 

"  Well,  now  that  you  have  left  him,  what  will  you 
do  ?  Will  you  stay  here  with  me  ? " 

"  I  dare  not.  Denis  will  follow  me ;  not  because 
he  loves  me,  but  because  he  hates  me,  and  hates 
Ray ;  and  then  there  would  be  a  fight  and  a  murder. 
I  want  some  of  my  clothes,  and  some  money,  and  I 
will  go  away ;  go  to  New  Orleans,  or  New  York, 
and  teach,  or  sew,  or  do  any  thing  I  can  do  for  a 
living.  O,  grandma !  dear,  dear  grandma,  help  me  ! 
Can't  you  help  me  ? " 

"  Has  any  one  here  seen  you  ? " 

"  No  one.  I  loitered  in  the  swamp  until  dark ; 
then  I  easily  found  my  way  up  stairs  to  my  old 
room.  The  key  was  in  the  door.  I  lay  down  upon 
the  bed  and  fell  asleep,  I  was  so  tired  ;  then  when  I 
awoke  I  came  here  to  you.  I  opened  the  door 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  GATE.  201 

slowly,  because  I  feared  Josepha  might  be  present. 
I  am  very  hungry,  grandma." 

"  Poor  child !  Go  into  my  dressing-room.  I  will 
ring  for  coffee  and  bread.  I  can  get  nothing  else 
at  this  hour  without  arousing  suspicion  or  remarks.'' 

When  it  was  brought  Gloria  ate  eagerly,  telling 
the  while  a  story  of  bitter  and  shameful  ill-usage. 

"  The  very  soldiers  pitied  and  helped  me  to 
escape,"  she  said. 

Their  whispered  confidence  lasted  far  through  the 
night ;  and  again  madam  emptied  her  jewel  drawers 
for  the  unhappy  woman ;  for  her  store  of  gold  was 
barely  sufficient  to  pay  traveling  expenses  to  New 
York. 

It  was  agreed  that  Gloria  should  rest  in  her  room 
until  madam  sent  for  Souda.  Souda's  horse  would 
carry  both  back  to  Galveston ;  and  from  there  the 
wretched  runaway  could  take  train  or  steamer,  and 
soon  escape  beyond  the  power  of  her  husband's  or 
her  brother's  anger.  For  a  few  days  there  was  little 
fear  of  her  presence  being  discovered  ;  for  her  room 
was  seldom  visited,  and  she  knew  so  well  the  hours 
and  the  ways  of  the  house.  Even  in  her  trouble, 
Gloria  took  a  kind  of  pleasure  in  planning  how  to 
provide  for  her  own  comforts  and  necessities  un- 
known to  Ray  and  Cassia. 

The  truth  was,   madam  needed  time  to  consider. 


202  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

Her  first  impulse  had  been  to  help  Gloria  to  escape ; 
but  as  soon  as  she  was  left  to  unbiased  reflection,  she 
perceived  that  she  had  acted  with  unwise  precipi- 
tancy. It  was  not  at  all  certain  that  Captain  Grady 
would  come  to  Briffault.  It  was  evidently  the  right 
thing  to  take  Raymund  into  their  confidence  and 
counsels ;  and  during  their  conversation,  on  the  fol- 
lowing day,  madam  endeavored  to  persuade  Gloria 
to  see  her  brother.  At  first  Gloria  refused,  but  per- 
ceiving madam  to  be  very  much  in  earnest,  she 
agreed  to  do  so,  as  soon  as  she  was  a  little  recovered 
from  the  effects  of  her  hard  journey,  and  had  altered 
one  of  her  old  dresses  to  fit  her  shrunken  figure. 

Gloria,  however,  did  not  like  the  prospect  of  things 
before  her  at  Briffault.  She  knew  that  Ray  would 
insist  upon  her  remaining  under  his  protection,  and 
that  he  would  consider  absolute  seclusion  a  necessary 
act  of  propriety.  She  imagined  his  dark,  disapprov- 
ing face ;  she  thought  of  Cassia ;  she  thought  of  the 
poverty  madam  had  spoken  of;  she  thought  of  the 
services  she  would  expect  from  her ;  altogether,  the 
life  she  would  have  to  lead  appalled  her.  She  con- 
gratulated herself  that  she  had  secured  tangible  help 
from  madam  in  the  first  hours  of  her  fright  and 
sympathy ;  and  the  next  day,  after  she  had  taken  tea 
with  her  grandmother,  she  went  out  again  into  the 
world,  this  time  quite  alone. 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  GATE.  203 

She  had  told  madam  she  was  going  to  her  room  to 
sleep  for  an  hour  or  two,  and  at  first  madam  believed 
her.  But  ere  long  she  remembered  a  peculiar  ex- 
pression on  Gloria's  face  as  they  drank  their  tea 
together  :  it  was  but  a  transient  gleam  in  the  eyes 
that  she  had  intercepted,  but  it  roused  in  her  an  un- 
happy suspicion.  She  could  not  put  it  away,  and  she 
went,  with  trembling  steps,  to  Gloria's  room.  The 
room  was  dark  —  she  expected  that  ;  but  when  she 
closed  the  door,  and  called  her  softly,  there  was  no 
response,  and  her  heart  turned  sick.  "  Yet  the  child 
might  be  asleep."  She  felt  her  way  to  the  bed,  and 
passed  her  hand  over  the  pillows.  There  was  a  litter 
of  clothing  on  them  ;  nothing  else.  She  had  a  match 
in  her  hand  ;  she  struck  it,  and  the  small  flickering 
light  showed  her  what  she  had  already  felt,  that  the 
room  was  empty. 

"There  will,  of  course,  be  a  note,"  she  said,  bit- 
terly, and  on  the  toilet  table  she  found  it. 


"  DEAR  GRANDMA  :  I  cannot,  and  I  will  not  meet 
Ray  and  Cassia.  If  I  can  make  a  living,  I  will  let 
you  know  ;  if  not,  one  can  always  die,  and  I  would 
rather  be  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea  than  in  Denis 
Grady's  power  again.  You  are  the  only  one  who 
loves  me.  I  am  sorry  to  go  away  from  you.  Thank 
you,  grandma,  for  your  kindness  to  me." 


204  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

The  last  lines  had  a  ring  of  truth  in  them.  They 
touched  madam  to  the  heart.  She  had  but  one 
thought :  "  the  wayward  girl  must  be  sought  and 
brought  home." 

She  sent  at  once  for  Ray ;  she  was  determined  to 
tell  him  all,  and  insist  upon  his  following  his  sister. 
If  he  hastened  to  Galveston  it  would  be  easy  to  watch 
every  train  and  steamer,  and  so  detain  her.  It  was 
even  possible  to  overtake  her  on  the  road,  for  she 
must  walk  to  WauPs  Station.  But  Eay  was  not  at 
home.  He  had  gone  to  Galveston  during  the  after- 
noon, and  there  was  no  certainty  about  his  return. 
Then  madam  offered  Josepha  five  dollars  to  ride  into 
Galveston,  and  look  for  her  master ;  but  Josepha  de- 
clared "  she  couldn't  ride  at  black  night."  The  cook 
was  of  the  same  persuasion,  "  specially  as  Mass'  Ray's 
horses  all  ob  dem  got  de  debil  in  'um."  The  only 
man  servant  had  left  the  place  at  sundown.  But 
the  difficulties  of  the  pursuit  only  roused  in  madam 
a  stronger  determination  to  accomplish  it.  Every 
moment  of  delay  increased,  in  her  eyes,  the  terrible 
necessity  of  the  case. 

She  imagined  Gloria  flying  on  foot  through  the 
swamp,  becoming  weary  and  hopeless,  and,  in  a  mo- 
ment of  despair,  fulfilling  her  threat.  The  idea  took 
possession  of  her,  as  fright  will  a  child  ;  she  could 
not  endure  it,  she  went  at  length  to  Cassia  for  help. 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  GATE.  205 

Cassia  sat  before  the  fire  in  her  bedroom,  nursing 
her  baby,  a  boy  of  ten  months  old.  When  madam 
entered  she  lifted  a  face  white  as  snow,  and  full  of 
anxiety  and  trouble. 

"  He  is  very  ill,"  she  said,  softly.  "  O,  I  wish  Ray 
was  at  home !  and  the  doctor  ought  to  have  been  here 
ere  this." 

Madam  stood  by  the  child  and  looked  down  at 
him.  The  baby  face  was  hot  and  crimson,  the 
breathing  labored,  the  tiny  hands  tightly  clenched. 

"  He  is  teething  and  has  a  fever  ;  there  is  nothing 
to  fear,  nothing  unusual,"  she  said. 

Then  she  told  her  in  rapid,  earnest  tones,  Gloria's 
sad  story;  perhaps,  unconsciously,  she  exaggerated 
the  girl's  fright  and  despair ;  at  any  rate,  she  made 
Cassia  feel  with  her  that  a  human  life  depended  upon 
their  individual  exertions  to  save  it.  And  in  Cassia's 
heart  the  fear  was  blent  with  one  still  more  solemn — 
"  the  unrepentant,  unpardoned  soul !  What  must 
she  do  to  prevent  any  catastrophe  which  would  send 
it  unprepared  to  meet  its  God  ? " 

She  looked  at  madam  in  terror. 

"  What  is  to  be  done  ?  Will  Josepha  or  Cora  go  ? 
Where  is  Steve?" 

"  Steve  went  away  at  sundown  ;  neither  Cora  nor 
Josepha  will  go.  Cassia,  there  is  no  one  but  you  to 
save  the  poor  unhappy  girl !  Yon  are  a  good  rider ; 


THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

you  are  not  afraid.  Kay  will  come  back  with  you. 
Do  you  know  where  to  find  him  ? " 

Alas !  yes.  She  knew  that  he  would  be  at  his  fa- 
vorite hotel.  She  knew  that  it  was  the  billiard-table, 
or  the  euchre  pack,  that  had  drawn  him  away  from 
his  sick  child  and  his  home.  She  had  no  fear  of  the 
ride.  But  her  baby !  how  could  she  leave  him  ? 

"  I  have  had  such  a  feeling  of  coming  sorrow,"  she 
said,  pitifully  ;  "  and  this  afternoon,  as  I  sat  sewing  be- 
side his  cradle,  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door — such  a 
singular  knock,  madam — as  if  one  brought  an  order. 
I  rose  instantly  and  opened  the  door.  There  was  no 
one  there,  I  mean  no  one  whom  I  could  see ;  but  my 
heart  turned  sick,  and  I  went  back  to  the  cradle,  and 
fell  down  weeping  beside  my  child.  I  cannot  leave 
him  !  I  cannot  leave  him  !  I  am  afraid  to  leave  him  !  " 

"You  are  the  soul  of  selfishness.  Is  there  no 
6  coming  sorrow '  but  your  sorrow  ?  Might  not  the 
'  order  '  be  for  Gloria,  as  well  as  for  your  baby  ?  I 
will  myself  attend  to  the  child.  Josepha  shall  nurse 
him  in  my  room.  I  shall  not  sleep  until  your  return. 
The  matter  rests  with  you  now.  If  Gloria  runs  into 
sin  or  shame,  or  takes  her  own  life,  I  shall  always 
blame  you,  unless  you  try  to  save  her.  If  I  had  been 
younger  I  would  not  have  asked  you;  you  never 
liked  Gloria,  never  did  any  thing  to  make  home 
happy  for  her." 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  GATE.  207 

"  Madam,  you  know  that  is  unkind ;  yes,  it  is  un- 
just !  I  have  spoiled  my  own  happiness  to  add  to 
hers  often.  But  I  will  not  defend  myself.  God 
knows.  And  I  will  go  for  Ray.  Perhaps  even  I 
may  overtake  her.  Ray  will  be  angry  with  me,  but 
that  must  not  prevent  a  duty ;  and  O,  madam,  my 
baby !  my  sick  baby  !  I  leave  him  in  your  care !  I 
will  pray  for  him  all  the  time,  but  you  must  watch, 
and  do  your  best  for  the  poor  little  fellow." 

"I  am  the  child's  mother  three  times  over.  Do 
you  think  you  are  the  only  person  who  loves  him  ? 
Had  I  been  in  your  place  he  should  have  had  a  phy- 
sician before  this  hour." 

"He  has  grown  so  much  worse  since  sundown. 
Ray  promised  to  call  at  the  doctor's  as  he  went  into 
town  ;  but  he  did  not  think  the  child  was  very  sick. 
Perhaps  he  forgot,  or  made  it  a  thing  of  little 
importance." 

"  We  are  wasting  time.  Bring  the  child  to  my 
room.  I  will  see  no  harm  comes  to  him." 

Weeping  bitterly,  she  did  so.  Over  and  over  she 
kissed  the  hot  little  face,  and  her  heart  seemed  as  if 
it  would  break  as  she  turned  away  from  it.  While 
Cora  saddled  a  horse,  she  put  on  her  habit,  and  as  her 
fingers  buttoned  it  round  her,  the  tears  fell  in  an  un- 
restrained and  bitter  rain. 

"Dear   God,  help  me!     O  take  care  of  my  sick 


208  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

child  !  It  is  so  bard !  1  cannot  do  it  unless  thon 
help  me ! " 

With  such  broken  entreaties  she  dressed  for 
her  lonely  ride;  but  as  soon  as  she  had  given  her 
horse  the  rein  she  thought  of  nothing  but  reaching 
her  destination  as  rapidly  as  possible. 

Yet,  on  the  way,  she  watched  constantly  for  any 
human  figure  that  might  be  Gloria,  but  she  saw  none. 
When  she  reached  Galveston  the  city  was  all  astir. 
The  sounds  of  music  and  singing  and  light  talk 
rippled  through  the  clear,  crisp  air.  In  many  houses 
the  blinds  were  undrawn,  and  fair  women,  dressed  in 
festal  white  and  fresh  flowers,  were  listening,  with 
happy  faces,  to  the  light  or  loving  words  of  friends 
or  lovers.  They  were  as  figures  in  a  dream  to  her, 
a  sad  frightsome  dream,  in  which  she  fled  from  some 
terror,  and  had  no  one  to  help  or  comfort  her. 

Suddenly,  upon  a  more  lonesome  street,  she  came 
to  a  church.  It  was  lit,  the  only  lighted  building 
near ;  she  checked  her  horse  and  stood  before  it,  for 
the  solemn,  triumphant  strains  of  "  Duke  Street "  fell 
upon  her  ear,  and  well  she  knew  the  four  grand  lines 
of  Charles  Wesley's  they  were  singing  to  them : 

"  'I  rest  beneath  the  Almighty's  shade, 
My  griefs  expire,  my  troubles  cease ; 

Thou,  Lord,  on  whom  my  soul  is  stayed, 
Will  keep  me  still  in  perfect  peace.'  " 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  GATE.  209 

"  My  God!"  she  whispered,  "  I  will  speak  to  thee 
for  one  moment ;  no  one  loses  time  by  prayer.  In 
thy  holy  temple  thou  wilt  surely  hear  and  bless  me." 

She  slipped  from  her  saddle,  fastened  the  animal, 
and,  drawing  her  veil  closely,  entered  the  building. 
The  singing  ceased  at  that  moment,  and  the  preacher 
rose.  He  was  an  old  man,  with  an  aspect  serious  and 
serene,  and  he  lifted  up  his  hands,  and  with  a  solemn 
gladness  said : 

"Go  in  peace;  and  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  the  love  of  God,  and  the  fellowship  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  be  with  you  all  evermore.  Amen!" 

What  more  did  Cassia  want?  She  felt  that  she 
had  been  blessed.  She  had  no  more  fear  of  what 
Raymund  would  say.  She  could  leave  her  darling 
in  the  charge  of  God's  angel.  She  went  on  her  way 
unspeakably  comforted  and  strengthened.  As  she 
approached  the  hotel  she  saw  a  Negro  man,  whom 
she  knew,  leaning  against  a  lamp  post.  She  spoke 
to  him,  and  he  looked  at  her  with  amazement. 

"Miss  Cassia,  I  'clar  to  goodness!  It  aint  you, 
surely,  Miss  Cassia  ? " 

"  It  is,  Daniel.  My  child  is  very  sick,  and  I  want 
to  see  Master  Ray.  He  is  in  the  hotel ;  go  and  find 
him,  and  say  a  lady  wishes  to  speak  to  him." 

"  Name  your  name,  Miss  Cassia  ? " 

"  Better  not,  Daniel." 
14 


210  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

In  about  five  minutes  she  saw  Raj  coming.  Be- 
fore she  could  speak  he  knew  her,  and  he  asked, 
sharply  : 

"What  nonsense  is  this,  Cassia?  Do  you  think 
such  heroic  virtue  will  frighten  me  into  staying  at 
home?" 

"  You  are  mistaken,  Kay  dear.  Gloria  has  been 
home  and  gone  again.  She  is  in  great  trouble,  and 
madam  is  afraid  she  will  take  her  own  life.  Also, 
little  Paul  is  very  ill,  very  ill,  indeed,  I  fear." 

"  Then,  why  did  you  leave  him  ?  Was  that  a 
motherly  thing  to  do  ?  As  for  Gloria,  she  made  her 
own  bed,  and  she  can  lie  on  it,  though  it  be  at  the 
bottom  of  the  sea." 

He  had  sent  Daniel  for  his  horse,  and  he  spoke  no 
more  until  it  came.  It  was  a  hard,  wretched  ride 
home.  They  mistook  the  crossing  of  one  of  the 
larger  bayous,  the  water  was  deep  and  dangerous; 
but  Ray  was  not  in  a  mood  to  turn  or  to  alter  his 
course  for  any  thing.  Wet  to  the  waist,  and  faint 
with  exhaustion,  Cassia  pursued  her  journey.  But 
her  patience  finally  touched  his  willful  heart. 

"  I  have  been  cross  and  unkind,  Cassia,"  he  said ; 
"  but  I  am  so  annoyed  about  this  folly  of  Gloria's. 
If  Grady  comes  after  her  I  shall  certainly  thrash 
him,  and  the  result  will  be  a  fight.  If  he  does  not 
come,  there  is  the  constant  worry  and  anxiety  about 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  GATE.  211 

her  fate.     We  shall  never  know  when  she  is  going  to 
do  some  outrageous  thing  that  will  put  us  all  in  every 
newspaper,  far  and  near.     In  fact,  I  don't  see  how  we 
are  to  keep  things  quiet  at  all.     Some  one  will  be 
sure  to  see  her.     She  is  imprudence  itself.      I   de- 
spise a  woman  who  leaves  her  husband  for  any  cause ! r' 
"  Grady  used  her  shamefully." 
"  1  said,  for  any  cause,  and  I  mean  it." 
"  He  struck  her,  Ray !     Cruelly  struck  her." 
"  Bah !  Parents  strike  children,  and  love  them  all 
the  time.     I  have  seen  Gloria  in  moods  when  a  man 
must  be  a  saint  not  to  strike  her.     Husband?  can't 
bear  every  thing." 

"A  man  cannot  strike  a  woman  and  respect  her 
after  the  blow.  A  woman  cannot  respect  a  man  who 
strikes  her." 

He  did  not  answer,  and  as  they  were  nearing  home, 
they  rode  forward  silently  and  very  swiftly.  Cassia 
was  reeling  with  exhaustion  when  Ray  lifted  her 
from  her  saddle.  She  stopped  at  the  bucket  and 
gourd  and  drank  a  deep  draught  of  water.  Then 
she  opened  the  closed  door.  There  was  a  strange 
stillness  in  the  house,  and  only  a  small  lamp  burning 
at  the  foot  of  the  stairs — a  stillness  she  had  never 
before  felt,  a  solemn  chill,  that  smote  her  to  the  heart. 
She  almost  crept  up  stairs.  Her  wet  habit  dragged 
her  down,  she  clung  to  the  balusters,  and  climbed 


212  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

painfully,  step  by  step.  She  meant  to  go  quickly  to 
madam's  room,  but  as  she  passed  her  own  she  saw 
that  the  door  stood  open.  Then  she  was  aware  that 
it  was  from  this  room  that  that  strange  cold  stillness 
came,  and  she  went  into  it.  The  fire  was  quite  out, 
the  windows  all  open,  every  thing  spotlessly  white  and 
cold  and  quiet.  Her  own  bed  was  like  a  snow-drift, 
and  so  was  little  Paul's  cradle  beyond  it. 

Already  divining  what  sorrow  waited  for  her,  she 
went,  like  one  in  a  maze,  to  the  tiny  bed.  Mothers ! 
Mothers !  You  can  tell  how  she  knelt  down  beside 
it,  and  kissed  the  clay-cold  face  and  the  small  folded 
hands,  and  moaned  like  one  whom  God  could  never- 
more comfort.  Raymnnd  had  been  obliged  to  take 
the  horses  to  the  stable  himself,  and  he  did  not  enter 
the  house  for  ten  minutes  after  Cassia.  He  was  not 
sensitive  to  any  new  influence  in  it;  he  came  up 
stairs  grumbling  at  the  whole  household  being  in  bed, 
and  no  supper  ready  for  him.  But  Cassia's  lament- 
ing brought  him  face  to  face  with  his  sorrow,  and  it 
was  a  real  sorrow  to  Raymund.  He  loved  his  little 
son  passionately.  He  was  his  own  image,  his  first- 
born son,  a  bright,  promising  boy,  exceptionally 
lovely  and  loving,  as  angel  children  always  are.  No 
trouble,  no  heart-pain,  half  so  hard  to  bear,  had  ever 
before  came  to  him. 

But  when  the  first  paroxysm  of  his  anguish  was 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  GATE.  213 

over,  it  was  succeeded  by  a  kind  of  anger.  He  took 
Cassia's  hand,  and  said,  "Come,  we  must  speak  to 
madam  about  it.  If  there  has  been  any  neglect,  I 
will  never  forgive  her."  Their  hearts  were  hard 
toward  the  old  woman  as  they  trod  the  long,  dim  cor- 
ridor leading  to  her  room.  But  when  they  saw  her, 
they  had  nothing  to  say.  She  lay  prostrate  upon 
her  bed,  her  hands  covering  her  face. 

"  I  did  my  best,"  she  murmured,  in  low,  cold  tones ; 
"he  went  into  a  spasm  an  hour  after  Cassia  left. 
It  was  hard  to  get  hot  water.  Josepha  was  half- 
crazed  and  useless.  I  did  all  I  could.  The  struggle 
was  a  short  one." 

Ray  looked  sternly  at  her,  but  Cassia  felt  the  agony 
whose  very  intensity  gave  it  an  appearance  of  in- 
difference. 

"  Thank  you,  madam,  I  know  you  did  your  best, 
did  all  that  it  was  possible  to  do,"  she  said.  But  O, 
the  loneliness  and  heart-ache  that  followed!  Ray, 
gloomy,  resentful,  speechless,  sat  by  his  dead  son  all 
night;  but  Cassia's  physical  exhaustion  gave  her  a 
short  respite  from  the  intense  sorrow  of  the  first 
hours  of  bereavement. 

When  Death  visits  a  house  he  leaves  behind  him  a 
little  hush.  For  a  few  days  after  all  is  over  the  wheels 
of  daily  toil  run  slowly,  the  wounded  hearts  take 
breath  and  dry  their  tears  a.  little,  and  comfort  each 


THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

other  as  well  as  they  can,  before  they  pursue  their 
journey.  They  were  sad  days  at  B  riff  an  It.  The 
children  played  in  whispers ;  the  house  had  a  lonely 
feeling ;  the  atmosphere  of  grief  was  in  every  room. 
Madam  was  haughty,  almost  resentful  still  in  her 
sorrow.  She  did  not  name  the  child,  and  when  Kay 
visited  her  their  talk  was  of  Gloria.  He  smiled  in- 
credulously at  the  idea  of  suicide.  "  Gloria  loves 
herself  too  much ;  and  why  did  she  provide  means  for 
travel  and  for  life  if  she  meant  to  die  ? "  he  asked. 
But  he  agreed  to  go  to  New  Orleans  and  look  for 
her,  and  he  was  the  more  inclined  to  do  this  because 
of  the  restless  pain  which  the  loss  of  his  child  had 
left  in  his  heart.  For,  alas !  he  did  not  carry  his 
sorrow  to  God ;  he  tried  rather  to  subdue  it  by  that 
practical  stoicism  which  says  to  itself,  "  What  is 
finished  is  finished.  The  dead  are  dead.  I  must 
make  the  best  of  it." 

After  he  was  gone  Briffault  had  almost  the  air  of 
a  house  shut  up.  There  seemed  to  be  a  shadow  even 
in  the  sunshine  which  fell  round  it — the  shadow  of 
itself.  Early  in  the  morning,  late  at  sundown,  often 
in  the  middle  of  the  day,  Cassia's  feet  trod  the  road 
to  that  lonely  little  yard  within  the  myrtle  hedge, 
where  she  had  once  found  Gloria  weeping.  There 
are  people  who  cannot  understand  this  prolonged 
sorrow ;  even  very  good  people,  who  say  to  a  broken- 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  GATE.  215 

hearted  mother,  "  God  does  all  for  the  best.  You 
should  believe  this,  and  rejoice  that  your  child  is 
safe."  On  the  contrary,  God  wills  that  we  should 
weep.  If  the  child  was  sweet  and  precious,  and  his 
gift,  we  cannot  but  weep  when  it  is  taken  away. 
When  God  smites  he  wishes  us  to  feel ;  but  if  we 
sink  prostrate  at  his  feet  for  the  blow,  there  comes 
with  it  that  penetrating  sweetness  of  love  which  is  in 
itself  a  joy. 

We  weep,  but  we  weep  in  hope.  God  has  not  left 
us  without  glad  intelligence  of  our  dead.  We  can 
turn  our  eyes  to  the  land  where  they  dwell.  The 
land  exists ;  it  is  no  poet's  dream,  no  prophet's  rapt- 
ure. The  simplest  see  it  the  clearest.  Cassia  longed 
much  for  John  at  this  time,  but  John  was  in  Arizona ; 
and  after  all  it  was  best  that  she  and  Christ  should 
bear  the  trial  alone ;  for  it  is  when  we  go, 

"With  trembling  heart  through  days  of  sorest  loss, 
His  smile  is  sweetest,  and  his  love  most  dear; 
And  only  heaven  is  better,  than  to  walk 
With  Christ  at  midnight  over  sorrow's  sea." 

And  though  Cassia  suffered,  madam,  sitting  alone 
amid  her  fading  splendor,  suffered,  perhaps,  more. 
There  are  in  these  days  young  people  who  are  old — 
they  are  indifferent,  skeptical,  weary  as  a  traveler  at 
night-fall — but  madam  was  young  in  spite  of  her 
years.  She  loved,  she  suffered,  she  willed,  as  she  had 


216  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

always  done.  Her  eyes,  which  represented  her  nobler 
part,  were  as  limpid  and  as  full  of  intelligence  as 
they  were  at  twenty.  She  was  one  of  those  women 
who  at  a  hundred  would  go  young  to  the  grave.  She 
made  no  complaints,  asked  for  no  sympathy,  ex- 
hibited no  emotion;  but  upon  her  countenance,  there 
was  the  impress  of  an  intense  woe,  a  mixture  of  de- 
fiance and  despair,  very  pitiful.  In  some  natures 
sorrow  runs  into  motion ;  madam's  took  this  form. 
Occasionally  she  sat  still  looking  straight  before  her, 
like  one  who  has  made  up  her  mind  to  suffer  and 
show  no  sign  of  it ;  but  for  the  most  part  she  walked 
restlessly  about.  Josepha  wondered  how  she  could 
bear  it. 

One  night,  about  two  months  after  Ray  had  left 
for  New  Orleans,  there  was  every  sign  of  a  thunder 
storm.  It  had  been  one  of  those  torrid  days  that  are 
sometimes  dropped  into  the  heart  of  spring.  The 
very  swamp  birds  were  faint  with  heat,  and  the  whole 
sky  was  red  and  lowering.  Madam  was  highly  elec- 
trical, and  painfully  sensitive  to  such  storms.  As 
the  evening  closed  in  she  could  not  rest  a  moment. 
She  set  wide  open  the  door  of  her  room,  and  longed  for 
little  Mary's  company.  But  the  child  was  nervous 
and  fevered,  and  not  inclined  to  leave  her  mother. 
It  grew  dark  and  oppressive  ;  Josepha  lit  the  lamps, 
and  sat  down  in  a  corner  of  the  room,  and  went  to 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  GATE.  217 

sleep.  Madam  did  not  like  to  awaken  her,  yet  she 
felt  an  overpowering  desire  for  some  human  society. 
She  went  into  the  corridor,  and  walked  slowly  up 
and  down,  listening  to  the  murmur  of  Cassia's  and 
Mary's  voices,  as  she  approached  their  room  nearer 
and  nearer.  The  door  stood  open  to  admit  any  air  that 
might  be  stirring,  and  ere  long  madam  heard  the  mo- 
notonous movement  of  a  rocking-chair.  Little  Mary 
was  in  her  night-gown  upon  her  mother's  knee,  and 
Cassia  was  trying  to  soothe  the  nervous,  irritable  child. 
"  Sing  me  i  The  Man  at  the  Gate,'  mamma." 
Now  Cassia  knew  well  that  madam  was  walking  in 
the  corridor.  It  had  become  a  very  usual  thing  for 
her  to  do  so  during  the  long,  lonely  evenings  ;  and 
Cassia  had  taken  pains  to  prevent  any  notice  of  the 
circumstance,  lest  it  might  drive  the  forlorn  old  wom- 
an back  to  a  still  greater  solitude.  So  she  was  glad 
when  Mary  asked  for  this  loveliest  of  spiritual  ballads, 
and  to  its  wild,  sweet  melody,  she  sang  the  touching 
words : 

"  '  In  summer  and  winter,  in  calm  and  storm, 
When  the  morning  dawns  and  the  night  falls  late, 

We  may  see,  if  we  will,  the  steadfast  form 
Of  the  Man  that  watches  beside  the  gate. 

"  '  I  saw  the  stars  of  the  morning  wait 

On  their  lofty  towers  to  watch  the  land, 
As  a  little  child  stole  up  to  the  gate 

And  knocked  with  a  tiny,  trembling  hand : 


218  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

"  '  u  I  am  only  a  little  child,  dear  Lord, 
And  my  feet  are  stained  already  with  sin  ; 

But  they  said  you  had  sent  the  children  word 
To  come  to  the  gate  and  enter  in." 

" '  The  Man  at  the  gate  looked  up  and  smiled 

A  heavenly  smile,  and  fair  to  see, 
And  he  opened,  and  bent  to  the  pleading  child, 

"  I  am  willing  with  all  my  heart !  "  said  he. 

"  '  I  looked  again,  and  the  wintry  blast 
Was  hurrying  wildly  o'er  land  and  sea ; 

The  glory  of  spring-time  was  long  gone  past, 

And  the  branches  were  bare  on  the  trembling  tree., 

"  '  Yet  still  at  the  gate  the  Saviour  stood, 
And  his  face  was  lifted  serene  and  fair, 

Though  his  raiment  was  heavy  and  red  with  blood, 
And  the  crown  of  thorns  showed  dark  on  his  hair. 

"  '  It  was  afternoon,  and  the  sun  was  low, 
And  the  troubled  winds  sobbed  long  and  loud, 

As  an  old  man  tottered  across  the  snow 
Which  wrapt  the  earth  in  a  bitter  shroud. 

"  ' "  0  Thou  that  watchest  beside  the  gate ! 

Had  I  come  to  thee  in  the  days  gone  by 
Thou  hadst  received  me ;  but  now  too  late 

I  lay  me  down  on  thy  threshold  to  die. 

"  '"  I  have  fought  and  finished  an  evil  fight, 
I  have  earned  the  deadly  wages  of  sin ; 

It  is  hard  to  die  in  the  snow  to-night, 
But  no  man  is  willing  to  take  me  in." 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  GATE.  '210 

"  '  The  sun  was  low  in  the  changing  west, 

The  shadows  heavy  from  hill  to  tree, 
As  the  Watchman  opened  the  gate  of  rest, 

"  I  am  willing  with  all  my  heart !  "  said  he. 

"  'At  midnight  there  came  the  voice  of  one 
Who  had  crept  to  the  gate  through  the  blinding  snow, 

And  who  moaned  at  the  gate  as  one  undone 
Might  moan  at  the  sight  of  the  last  dread  woe. 

"  '  A  woman's  voice,  and  it  rose  and  fell 
On  the  muffled  wings  of  the  snowy  night, 

With  a  trembling  knocking  which  seemed  to  tell 
Of  one  who  was  chilled  and  spent  outright. 

« « 4i  j  wove  tiie  crown  for  the  Brow  divine, 
I  pierced  the  hand  that  was  stretched  to  save; 

I  dare  not  pray  that  the  light  may  shine 
To  show  me  the  prints  of  the  nails  I  drave. 

"  '  "  I  beat  this  night  on  my  sinful  breast, 

I  dare  not  pray  him  to  succor  me  !  " 
But  the  Watchman  opened  the  gate  of  rest, 

"  I  am  willing  with  all  my  heart!  "  said  he. 

"  '  Thus  day  and  night  they  are  pressing  nigh, 
With  tears  and  sighs  to  the  heavenly  gate, 

Where  the  Watchman  stands  in  his  majesty, 

With  a  patience  which  has  never  said,  "  Too  Zafc."  * " 

Cassia  put  her  soul  into  every  line.  She  thought 
of  the  listener  outside,  and  in  her  heart  there  was  a 
prayer  to  the  Man  at  the  gate  for  her.  The  sweet 


220  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

little  melody  rose  and  fell  with  a  monotony  that  was 
charmf ul  and  full  of  rest.  At  length  it  stopped  alto- 
gether— only  the  creak  of  the  rocker  was  heard. 
There  was  a  tap  at  the  door,  and  Cassia  rose  with  the 
child  in  her  arms.  Madam  was  standing  on  the 
threshold. 

"  How  is  Mary  ?  I  feared  she  had  fever  this  after- 
noon." 

Mary  lifted  her  drowsy  head.  "  Come  in,  grand- 
ma." 

And  Cassia  said,  "  Come  in  and  rest,  the  night 
is  so  hot  and  close." 

"  You  were  singing  ? " 

"  I  was  singing  Mary  to  sleep." 

"  I  heard  you — a  sweet,  wild  tune.  Do  not  stop  ; 
I  like  it." 

She  sat  down,  and  little  Mary  put  out  her  hand. 
Madam  clasped  it  in  her  own,  and  Cassia  sang  the 
solemn  ballad  over  again ;  sang  it  very  simply,  care- 
fully avoiding  an  emphasis  or  inflection  which  might 
appear  like  application  ;  for  God  had  given  her  this 
great  wisdom,  to  know  when  to  speak  and  when  to 
forbear.  At  the  last  line  she  pointed  out  the  sleeping 
child.  Her  small  fingers  were  tightly  clasping  her 
grandmother's.  Madam  looked  pleased,  so  did  Cas- 
sia ;  the  two  women  caught  each  other's  smile.  When 
the  fingers  were  loosened  the  child  was  laid  to  rest, 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  GATE.  221 

and  madam  made  as  if  she  would  go  away ;  but  Cas- 
sia said : 

"  The  storm  is  just  breaking.  It  will  be  a  very  bad 
one.  Stay  here  beside  me." 

She  drew  her  sofa  a  little  forward  and  put  a  pil- 
low on  it,  and  helped  madam  to  dispose  herself  as  she 
wished.  Then  the  two  women  sat  silent ;  for  the 
noise  of  the  thunder  and  of  the  wind  and  of  the  swash- 
ing and  beating  of  the  rain  made  conversation  im- 
possible. And  in  the  very  height  of  the  elemental 
uproar  there  came  the  wild  gallop  of  a  terrified  horse 
up  the  avenue. 

"  It  is  Ray,"  said  Cassia,  starting  up.  "  Do  not 
move,  madam,  he  will  be  glad  to  meet  you  at 


once." 


In  a  little  while  Ray  came  in,  drenched  and  weary, 
but  with  a  face  full  of  love  and  pleasure.  He  fol- 
lowed Cassia  up  stairs,  laughing  at  the  gallop  he  had 
had,  and  saying : 

"  O,  how  sweet  it  is  to  see  you  again,  Cassia  !  O, 
how  sweet  it  is  to  be  at  home  again !  I  have  such 
good  news  1 " 

He  was  surprised  at  madam's  presence,  but  glad 
also,  and  he  added,  as  he  kissed  her  : 

"  You  remember  me  speaking  of  Jonas  Sterne  ? 
I  have  gone  into  partnership  with  him.  An  excellent 
thing  1  I  am  really  fortunate  I " 


222        .    THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

Madam  rose  hastily.  She  looked  at  Kay,  laid 
her  hand  upon  his  arm,  and,  in  a  trembling  voice 
asked: 

"  Gloria?  What  of  your  sister,  Ray  ?  Have  you 
seen  her  ?  Heard  of  her  ? " 

But  Ray's  face  darkened,  and  he  answered,  very 
sternly : 

"  I  have  heard  nothing  of  her." 


LIFE  AND  DEATH.  223 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
LIFE    AND    DEATH. 

"  From  Thyself  direct 

Thy  secret  comes  to  all,  whom  thou  shalt  deem 
Worthy  to  find  it.     Councils,  doctors,  priests, 
Are  but  the  signs  that  point  us  to  the  spring 
Whence  flow  thy  living  waters." 

"  Hast  thou  nursed  a  sin  ? — confess  it ; 
Hast  thou  done  a  wrong  ? — redress  it." 

IT  is  a  sad  thing  to  explore  the  affections  and 
hopes,  and  to  say  of  them  all,  u  What  do  they 
profit?"  When  madam,  in  answer  to  her  question 
about  Gloria,  received  Ray's  reply,  "  I  heard  nothing 
of  her,"  something  like  this  feeling  chilled  her  soul. 
She  went  away  without  asking  any  thing  about  his 
new  partner.  It  seemed  to  her,  indeed,  as  if  no 
earthly  thing  was  worth  a  question.  But  Ray  was 
enthusiastic  over  his  prospects,  and  Cassia  was  glad 
that  she  could  sympathize  with  him.  Sterne  was 
not  an  entire  stranger ;  Ray  had  met  him  three  years 
previously,  while  he  was  exploring  the  State  of 
Texas,  with  a  view  to  a  final  settlement  in  it ;  and 
when  Ray  went  to  New  Orleans,  in  search  of  his  run- 


224-  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BEIFFAULT. 

away  sister,  their  acquaintance  was  resumed.  Sterne 
was  then  ready  to  make  the  change  he  had  been  con- 
templating, and,  in  accordance  with  Ray's  advice,  had 
fixed  upon  Waul's  Station  as  the  scene  of  his  future 
accumulations. 

The  village,  however,  though  growing  very  fast, 
was  too  small  to  justify  the  employment  of  all  his 
capital  in  dry  goods,  and  the  residue  he  proposed 
to  invest  in  horse  or  cattle  trading.  Sterne  was  to 
supply  the  money ;' Ray ,  to  give  his  knowledge  of 
stock,  and  of  the  markets  where  they  could  be  best 
bought  and  sold.  One  of  the  stipulations  of  the  con- 
tract between  Sterne  and  Briffault  was,  that  the 
latter  should  never  touch  a  card,  nor  make  a  bet  on 
any  transaction  ;  and  Ray,  recalling  the  end  of  Dacre 
and  his  companions,  felt  sure  that  the  promise  would 
not  be  hard  to  keep. 

For  two  years  affairs  went  on  with  an  average  sat- 
isfaction, and  Cassia  was  very  happy.  No  woman, 
with  growing  boys  and  girls,  is  insensible  to  the 
value  of  money.  For  herself,  she  may  be  willing  to 
do  without  it ;  for  her  children,  she  desires  all  the 
good  things  it  can  procure ;  and  besides,  she  was 
glad  to  let  the  household  burden,  borne  so  long  and 
so  cheerfully,  slip  from  her  shoulders  a  little.  But 
after  two  years  there  began  to  be  a  change.  The 
first  trouble  was  caused  by  a  little  cur  belonging  to 


LIFE  AND  DEATH.  225 

Sterne.  One  of  the  Briffault  children  stoned  it ;  and 
Louis  Sterne,  a  lad  of  ten  years  old,  made  the  quarrel 
his  own.  No  one  needs  to  be  told  that  children  can 
foment  the  bitterest  hatreds;  that,  in  the  main,  their 
innocence  and  inoffensiveness  is  a  poetic  tradition. 
The  majority  of  children  prove  the  doctrine  of  orig- 
inal sin ;  they  have  all  the  malicious  dislikes  of 
adults,  without  their  reason  and  prudence,  and  as 
assailants  can  be  far  more  aggravating. 

The  quarrel  between  the  children  had  not  existed 
long  when  Mrs.  Sterne  called  upon  Cassia  about  it. 
In  her  eagerness  she  called  an  hour  too  soon.  Cassia 
had  a  nervous  headache,  she  was  disturbed  in  her 
siesta,  and  had  to  go  down  stairs  to  her  visitor  after 
a  hurried  and  unsatisfactory  toilet.  The  visit  was  an 
unpleasant  one ;  Cassia's  reserve  and  politeness  pre- 
vented any  thing  like  a  quarrel,  but  the  offense  was 
really  deepened  instead  of  explained  away.  Mrs. 
Sterne  made  her  husband  feel  with  her  the  real 
or  the  imaginary  slights  she  had  suffered.  Sterne 
had  his  own  experiences  to  put  to  hers ;  and  when 
the  women  and  children  of  two  families  are  at  en- 
mity, it  is  almost  impossible  for  the  men  to  remain 
long  neutral.  Ray  perceived  that  the  end  was  com- 
ing between  himself  and  Sterne,  and  he  was  not 
sorry ;  the  unfathomable  meanness  of  the  man's  char- 
acter, his  jealousy  and  suspicions,  had  become  hard 
15 


226          THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

to  tolerate.  He  was  only  anxious  to  find  some  way 
of  carrying  on  the  business  he  had  built  up,  when 
Sterne's  money  should  be  withdrawn. 

One  night  he  camped  in  the  same  grove  with  the 
sutlers  of  two  cavalry  companies  who  were  going  to 
San  Antonio  for  stores.  After  supper  the  men  took 
out  a  pack  of  cards,  and  were  soon  gambling  desper- 
ately. Ray's  heart  throbbed,  his  face  paled  and 
flushed,  and  his  hands  were  almost  beyond  control. 
Crib,  an  old  Negro  who  had  followed  Bay  in  all  his 
wanderings,  and  who  knew  all  his  weakness,  watched 
the  struggle  with  a  sinking  heart. 

"Mass5  Ray!  Mass'  Ray!  prevention  am  de  best 
bridle  fur  sin — don't  look  at  'em."  But  Ray  gazed 
at  the  cards  as  if  fascinated,  and  trembled  all  over 
with  excitement.  "  Lie  down  under  de  tree,  Mass' 
Ray ;  when  de  door  am  shut,  de  giant  kin  knock,  and 
knock,  and  you  kin  keep  him  out;  but  ef  you  let 
him  jist  git  his  finger  in,  den  'fore  de  mornin',  he'll 
hab  you  bound  hand  and  foot.  Fur  de  Lord's  sake, 
come  'way,  Mass'  Ray ! " 

Only  God  takes  account  of  the  temptations  we  re- 
sist. It  cost  Ray  a  great  effort  to  turn  away,  but  he 
did  so.  Ere  Crib  slept  that  night  he  lifted  his  head, 
and  saw  his  master  pleasantly  smoking  under  a  great 
live  oak.  The  watch  were  slowly  patrolling  the  cat- 
tle, and  the  sutlers,  sitting  in  a  patch  of  bright  moon- 


LIFE  AND  DEATH.  227 

light,  were  silently  shuffling  their  cards.  "With  a 
prayer  on  his  lips  for  "  ehery  body  in  de  who!'  world," 
Crib  rolled  his  head  in  his  blanket,  and  went  to  sleep. 
When  he  awoke  the  cattle  were  beginning  to  move, 
the  moon  had  set,  but  the  sun  had  not  risen,  and  in 
that  pallid  misty  light  which  precedes  the  dawn  the 
gamblers  were  still  busy.  Alas!  alas!  there  were 
three  of  them. 

The  old  man  rose  and  went  about  his  work.  It 
was  too  late  to  say  another  word  then.  He  made  his 
master's  coffee,  and  very  soon  the  camps  broke  up. 
One  went  east,  the  other  west ;  but  that  day  all  Crib's 
duties  were  very  hard  to  him.  He  was  angry  with 
himself  because  he  had  not  been  able  to  resist  sleep, 
and  watch  one  night  with  the  man  whom  he  knew 
to  have  been  in  sore  temptation. 

"  Jist  my  word  might  hab  turned  the  scale,"  he 
thought,  remorsefully ;  u  I'se  allays  blamed  de  'ciples 
fur  not  watchin'  wid  de  Lord ;  but  I'se  been  jist  as  no 
'count  myself." 

He  observed  Ray  from  a  distance,  and  perceived 
that  he  had  been  winning. 

"  De  debil  mighty  smart  dese  days,"  he  muttered, 
as  he  moved  about  among  his  cooking  utensils ;  "  he 
done  gib  up,  ragin'  roun'  'bout,  like  a  lion,  and  tak- 
in'  folks'  prop'ty  'way  from  dem.  When  he  wants 
to  git  a  man  sure,  now,  he  jist  helps  him  shuffle  de 


THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

money  into  his  pockets  widout  working  a  lick  fur 
it ;  dat  fetches  him  ebery  time !  Losin'  chillen  and 
cattle,  and  habbing  boils  and  a  pervokin'  wife,  dat's 
all  foolishness  now !  Men  aint  gwine  to  curse  God 
and  die  'bout  such  fings  as  dem ;  but  gib  a  man 
plenty  of  money,  what  he  neber  earned,  and  Satan 
knows  he  is  gwine  to  flaunt  it  on  de  very  widest 
road  to  hell  he  kin  find  out." 

All  that  summer  the  feeling  of  dislike  and  sus- 
picion between  Raymund  and  Sterne  deepened,  until 
the  men  became  personally  hateful  to  each  other. 
And  mean  as  Sterne  really  was,  he  had  his  adherents ; 
one  of  whom  was  among  the  drovers.  This  man 
had  fully  reported  Ray's  relapse  into  gambling,  and 
Sterne  was  only  waiting  until  a  lucrative  government 
contract  had  been  filled  to  dissolve  a  partnership,  of 
which  one  of  the  chief  obligations  had  been  broken. 

One  morning,  in  November,  it  seemed  to  him  that 
the  time  had  come.  The  day  previous  some  one  had 
dropped  a  few  words  about  Gloria's  position — a  few 
wicked  words — which  declared  little,  but  insinuated 
a  great  deal ;  and  Sterne  had  one  of  those  small  souls 
which  can  revenge  a  business  grievance  by  an  allu- 
sion to  a  man's  domestic  affairs.  Ray's  aristocratic 
nonchalant  ways  had  long  wounded  his  self-esteem ; 
he  looked  forward  with  pleasure  to  the  humiliating 
blow  he  meant  to  deal  him. 


LIFE  AND  DEATH.  229 

As  it  happened,  Ray  was  that  morning  accompa- 
nied by  John  Preston.  He  entered  the  store  in  his 
up-head  way,  booted,  spurred,  and  armed ;  and  the 
bowing,  conciliating  store-keeper  felt  his  very  ap- 
pearance an  insult.  There  was  really  nothing  offen- 
sive in  Ray's  manner  of  tilting  his  chair,  and  flinging 
his  riding- whip  on  the  floor ;  but  Sterne  fancied  there 
was. 

"  He  acts  as  if  my  store  was  his  own,"  he  thought ; 
and  the  merry  laugh  with  which  some  remark  of 
Ray's  was  greeted  by  the  men  assembled  round  the 
stove  was  the  last  thing  he  could  endure. 

"  I  think  we  had  better  understand  one  another, 
Mister  Briffault.  You  haf  been  gambling  again. 
You  haf  broke  your  word  to  me.  I  will  not  do  any 
more  piziness  with  you." 

Ray  looked  up  with  flashing  eyes,  but  went  on  with 
the  incident  he  was  relating. 

"  You  hear  me,  sir ;  you  hear  me  fery  well,  Mis- 
ter Briffault.  You  haf  been  gambling  again." 

"  Sterne,  I'll  attend  to  you  just  now — when  I  get 
ready." 

"  When  you  get  ready — fery  well !  Till  then  you 
will  leaf  my  store.  You  are  no  shentleman,  sir  ! " 

"  Be  quiet,  Sterne.  What  do  you  know  about  gen- 
tlemen ? " 

"You  are  no  shentlemau,  sir;  no,  you  are  not; 


230  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

and  your  sister  is — we  all  know  fery  well  what 
she  is." 

The  words  were  scarce  uttered  when  the  store  was 
in  a  tumult.  Eay,  with  a  passionate  exclamation,  in- 
stantly drew  his  revolver,  but  his  arms  were  as  rap- 
idly seized  by  two  strong  men  at  his  side,  and,  strug- 
gling and  swearing,  he  was  forced  out  of  the  store. 
To  the  amazement  of  every  one,  John  Preston  lifted 
the  quarrel.  He  had  been  standing  beside  some  bar- 
rels of  flour  which  he  wished  to  purchase,  but  he 
strode  quickly  to  the  counter,  and,  looking  Sterne  in- 
flexibly in  the  face,  said  : 

"  Don't  move  an  inch,  sir !  Take  back  every  word 
you  said  about  Mrs.  Grady." 

"  I  wass  told,  Mr.  Preston." 

"  Take  the  words  back,  sharp  !  I  am  not  going  to 
wait  on  you." 

"  It  iss  not  my  fault.     I  wass  told — " 

"  It  is  your  fault.  You  knew  your  insinuation  was 
a  lie.  When  a  man  lies  away  a  woman's  good  name 
he  is  a  scoundrel."  He  stooped  and  lifted  Bay's  rid- 
ing-whip. "  I  give  you  one  minute  longer.  Take 
your  evil  words  home  ! " 

"  I  will  take  them  home — efery  one  of  them — Mr. 
Preston.  I  meant  nothing  wrong  to  the  lady." 

"  Say,  '  I  know  nothing  wrong  of  the  lady.' >: 

"  '  I  know  nothing  wrong  of  the  lady.' ': 


LIFE  AND  DEATH.  231 

"  Very  well ;  see  you  say  nothing  wrong  of  her ; 
not  so  much  as  the  lifting  of  an  eyelid.  I  tell  you 
the  horsewhip  was  meant  for  liars  and  slanderers, 
and,  if  you  earn  it,  you — shall — have — it !  I  prom- 
ise you  that.  These  gentlemen  will  tell  yon  that 
John  Preston  keeps  his  word." 

And,  amid  a  murmur  of  assent,  John  flung  the 
whip  down  on  the  counter  in  front  of  Sterne,  and  then 
walked  out  of  the  store. 

This  scene  ended  all  relations  between  Kay  and 
Sterne.  The  settlement  of  affairs  between  them  was 
intrusted  to  a  lawyer  and  John  Preston,  and  Sterne 
complained  that  he  had  been  badly  used,  and  in  so 
much  terror  that  he  had  scarcely  dared  to  take  his 
own.  But,  according  to  Sterne's  accounts,  one  thou- 
sand dollars  was  all  that  could  be  claimed  for  Ray, 
and  he  was  sure  this  sum  was  not  half  of  his  due. 
These  were  sad  days  for  Cassia.  She  foresaw  trouble, 
and  no  end  of  care  and  temptation  for  her  husband. 
For  Eay  would  not  hear  of  resigning  the  business 
he  had  built  up.  He  intended  to  get  money  from 
some  one,  and  he  thought  it  would  be  easy  to  do. 

But  he  found  borrowing  an  impossibility.  Men 
who  had  cash  knew  of  safer  investments.  Sterne, 
being  a  trader,  had  made  the  alliance  pay  in  several 
directions ;  mere  capitalists  could  not  do  this.  Be- 
sides, there  was  an  indefinable  fear  of  Eay  ;  his  gam- 


232  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

bling  propensities  were  known ;  men  from  whom  he 
expected  both  sympathy  and  assistance  looked  upon 
all  his  proposals  with  disfavor  and  discouragement. 
He  was  forced  to  resume  his  operations  without  suffi- 
cient money  to  make  them  profitable. 

One  day,  after  a  year's  worrying  efforts  to  keep 
his  business  together,  he  was  in  San  Antonio.  He 
wanted  a  thousand  dollars,  and  he  had  only  one  hun- 
dred. After  a  moment's  hesitation  he  turned  into  a 
gambling  saloon,  flung  his  hundred  dollars  down,  and 
doubled  them.  Again  and  again  and  again  he  haz- 
arded his  all,  and  every  time  he  won.  When  he  left 
the  place  he  had  nearly  two  thousand  dollars  in  his 
pocket.  But  he  was  too  late  for  the  trade  he  had 
been  playing  for,  and  he  hung  around  the  city  wait- 
ing for  another.  He  soon  met  with  some  horses  for 
which  three  thousand  dollars  was  asked.  He  was 
anxious  to  buy,  the  man  was  anxious  to  sell. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,  Briffault,"  he  said,  u  pay  the 
half  now,  and  give  me  your  note  for  the  balance  in  a 
month.  You  will  have  sold  the  horses  by  that  time, 
and  can  easily  meet  the  bill." 

This  seemed  an  excellent  method  to  Kaymund,  and 
for  awhile  it  worked  very  well ;  but,  really,  it  was  a 
great  misfortune  to  the  sanguine,  speculative  man,  for 
henceforward  he  was  willing  to  buy  any  drove,  how- 
ever large  or  valuable,  upon  such  terms.  And  then 


LIFE  AND  DEATH.  233 

one  day  a  great  temptation  came  to  him.  The  seller 
of  a  fine  cavallard  would  not  take  Ray's  name  alone. 
He  proposed  to  get  John  Preston's  name  also,  and 
the  offer  was  satisfactory.  But  John  was  not  to  be 
;ound,  and  Ray  wrote  his  name  for  hhfi.  As  it  hap- 
pened, all  went  well ;  the  note  was  lifted  without 
trouble.  He  did  the  same  thing  again,  with  the  same 
result ;  he  did  it  again,  and  failed.  Then  he  had  to 
ride  night  and  day  for  nearly  a  week,  and,  tottering 
with  exhaustion,  to  throw  himself  upon  John's  mercy. 

"  Seven  hundred  dollars  is  a  big  sum,  but  I'll  pay 
it,"  said  John,  with  a  stern  face.  "  Thinking  of  Cas- 
sia and  the  children,  I'll  pay  it ;  but  O,  Ray !  Ray  ! 
how  dare  you  gamble  with  shame  and  dishonor  and  a 
felon's  cell  ?  for  this  kind  of  business  is  gambling — 
nothing  better." 

"I'll  never  do  such  a  thing  again.  God  is  my 
witness." 

"  If  you  are  telling  a  lie,  don't  ask  God  to  be  wit- 
ness to  it." 

John  was  much  shocked.  He  was  unable  at  the 
hour  to  even  discuss  the  circumstances  of  the  sin. 
They  did  not  part  pleasantly,  and,  somehow,  Ray  felt 
id  if  he  was  the  injured  party.  "  Such  a  fuss  to  make 
about  a  few  hundred  dollars ! "  Ray  was  sure  that 
he  would  have  met  a  crisis  of  the  kind  with  far  more 
generosity. 


23-1  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

During  this  interval  madam  had  been  going  rap- 
idly down  the  slope  which  leads  to  the  shoal  of  life. 
Gloria's  second  desertion  marked  a  point  from  which 
it  was  all  descent  afterward.  Little  by  little  her  rest- 
lessness left  her,  and  she  was  content  to  lie  upon  her 
couch  in  the  sunlight  or  the  firelight.  And  O,  what 
did  she  think  of  during  the  long  hours  of  her  night 
session  with  the  sleepy  Josepha  ?  In  the  day-time 
some  of  the  children  were  generally  with  her ;  all 
their  little  joys  and  sorrows  were  carried  to  "  grand- 
ma." But  still  her  heart  clung  with  a  faithful  affec- 
tion to  her  lost  Gloria. 

"Poor,  weak,  foolish  Gloria!"  she  would  say  to 
Cassia,  with  whom  only  she  could  discuss  her  longing 
and  her  fears. 

One  day  she  sent  a  letter  to  John  Preston.  "  Come 
and  see  me,"  she  wrote.  "  I  should  like  to  speak  to 
you  before  I  go  away." 

The  message  pleased  John.  He  had  some  business 
to  do,  but  he  let  it  wait  and  went  at  once  to  see 
madam.  He  had  not  met  her  since  the  days  when 
he  had  wandered  in  the  garden  with  Gloria,  and  had 
almost  feared  the  passionate  hatred  with  which  she 
watched  his  love.  She  was  no  longer  a  woman  to  be 
feared.  He  looked  at  her  with  a  great  compas- 
sion. She  seemed  to  have  shrunken  away,  and  was  so 
frail  that  she  gave  him  the  idea  of  transparency — as 


LIFE  AND  DEATH.  235 

if  the  shadow  of  flesh  was  illumined  by  the  spirit 
within. 

"  John  Preston,"  she  said,  as  she  stretched  out  her 
hands  to  him,  "  will  you  do  me  a  great  favor  ?" 

"  If  I  can,  I  will." 

"  Go  and  seek  Gloria." 

"  Ah,  I  cannot  do  that — yet.  I  have  no  right  to 
seek  the  wife  of  another  man." 

"  You  might  save  her." 

"  It  is  not  permitted  us  to  do  evil  that  good  may 
come.  But  if  ever  Gloria  is  left  alone  I  promise  you 
to  seek  her,  though  I  go  the  world  over." 

"  John,  I  am  sorry." 

She  did  not  say  what  for ;  but  John  understood 
the  pathos  in  her  sad  eyes  and  the  movement  of  her 
thin  hands  toward  him.  He  touched  them  with  his 
lips  and  answered,  gently  : 

"  For  all  that  is  past  there  is  pardon.  In  our  blind- 
ness we  err,  but  plenteonsness  of  mercy  and  forgive- 
ness is  with  God." 

"  I  was  thinking  of  you  and  Gloria." 

"  God  will  put  it  all  right,  madam." 

"  You  will  forgive  her  when  you  find  her  ?  " 

u  Every  thing — every  thing !  I  will  forgive  her 
freely." 

"  Thank  you,  John." 

Then  he  spoke  to  her  very  gently  of  her  own  weak- 


236  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

ness,  and  of  the  change  which  could  not  be  very  far 
off  from  her.  She  listened,  but  as  one  a  little  weary 
listens. 

"  I  know  that  I  am  dying,  John.  "When  all  is  still 
at  night  I  can  hear  the  roar  of  billows  on  a  dark 
shore.  No,  I  do  not  pray.  I  turned  my  back  on 
God  more  than  sixty  years  ago.  It  would  be  mean 
to  offer  him  my  allegiance  again  now — with  the  very 
dregs  of  a  rebellious  life.  Do  you  think  I  would  for- 
give a  child  who  wronged  and  shamed  me  all  her 
years,  and  then  when  she  was  dying,  and  had  no  more 
power  to  sin  against  me,  said,  i  Forgive  me  V  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  you  would.  If  Gloria  came  to  you 
at  the  last  hour  and  said,  *  Forgive  me,1  would  you 
turn  her  away  ?  No  ;  you  would  kiss  the  sorrowful 
one  and  say,  4  Dear  child,  be  comforted.  I  love  you  ! ' 
Is  not  your  heavenly  Father  much  better  than  you 
are? 

"  '  He  bendeth  low  from  his  holy  hill- 
Searching  the  shadows  gray  and  chill — 

And  calling  us  alway; 
And  clear,  through  the  angel-singing, —  ' 

"What  time  the  sons  of  God 
Shout  loud,  for  joy  upspringing, 

Till  all  the  heavens  are  bowed. 
He  hears  the  faintest  sighing 

Of  some  poor,  far-off  soul, 
"Who  turns  to  look  to  the  holy  place 

While  the  billows  round  him  roll.' 


LIFE  AND  DEATH.  237 

He  calls  you  now.  "What  is  sixty  or  seventy  years 
in  that  eternity  throughout  which  the  redeemed  shall 
do  his  pleasure  ?  Thinking  of  its  infinity,  can  you 
not  see  that  the  Master  might  easily  give  the  full 
penny  even  to  those  who  are  hired  at  the  eleventh 
hour — might  even  count  their  faith  for  righteousness, 
since  the  love  and  service  of  eternal  years  are  for  the 
redemption  of  the  promise  made  by  that  one  hour  and 
that  one  penny  ? " 

She  was  quite  weary,  and  looked  like  one  at  the 
point  of  death.  John  gave  her  a  draught  of  water, 
and  called  Josepha.  Then  he  bid  her  good-bye, 
and  asked  : 

"  Shall  I  come  again  ?  " 

"  Yes,  as  often  as  you  can ;  and,  John,  what  about 
Ray  ?  I  am  afraid  he  is  doing  badly.  He  is  Gloria's 
brother  ;  you  will  remember  that  ? " 

"  He  is  also  my  brother.  As  far  as  it  is  possible  I 
am  his  keeper ;  and  where  I  cannot  reach  him  prayer 
can." 

That  winter  Ray  was  mostly  in  San  Antonio. 
There  were  the  fandangoes,  and  the  races  and  balls, 
and  the  "  chances,"  both  in  cards  and  cattle,  in  which 
he  delighted.  Both  in  trade  and  in  play  he  was  sin- 
gularly fortunate,  and  never  had  life  seemed  so  pleas- 
ant and  hopeful  to  him.  When  the  spring  opened  he 
was  in  circumstances  to  take  advantage  of  any  prom- 


238  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

ising  speculation  ;  and  even  the  most  skeptical  of  his 
acquaintances  began  to  think  there  must  be  some  na- 
tive ability  in  so  fortunate  a  man.  Yet  his  operations 
in  cattle,  in  cotton,  in  land,  were  in  all  their  elements 
as  much  allied  to  gambling  as  if  they  had  been  ma- 
nipulated with  the  dice.  He  delighted  in  taking  enor- 
mous risks  for  the  sake  of  enormous  profits,  and  the 
charm  of  a  trade  to  Raymund  Briffault  was  just  this 
daring,  speculative,  gambling  element. 

He  was  now  nearly  forty  years  old,  and  a  very  dif- 
ferent man,  in  all  respects,  from  the  slim,  unsunned, 
dawdling  youth  who  had  taken  a  hand,  out  of  simple 
politeness,  in  Ratcliffe's  last  game.  Sunbrowned, 
rough  in  manner,  with  a  hand  ever  ready  for  a  pistol 
or  a  card,  and  a  knowledge  of  the  cattle  business  of 
the  West  which  brought  him  a  very  positive  respect 
and  a  large  income,  Raymund  Briffault  seemed  to  the 
majority  a  very  happy  and  successful  man. 

One  evening  he  was  riding  westward  with  a  driver 
and  a  Mexican.  The  rest  of  the  party  were  in  ad- 
vance, he  having  stayed  behind  to  finish  the  trade  for 
a  fine  mare  which  the  Mexican  was  leading.  He 
hoped  to  reach  the  camp  before  dark,  but,  being  ten 
miles  distant  at  sundown,  he  ordered  a  rest  under  a 
little  grove  of  cotton-wood  trees.  They  were  near  the 
entrance  to  the  Apache  Mountains — two  long,  low 
spurs,  inclosing  a  narrow  valley  full  of  rank,  tawny 


LIFE  AND  DEATH.  239 

grass.  There  was  a  full  moon  and  a  few  large  stars 
in  the  sky,  and  every- where  the  strong,  sweet  scent  of 
bleaching  grass.  After  a  cup  of  coffee  the  men  sat 
down  to  smoke.  A  dead  silence  prevailed — a  silence 
so  profound  that  the  insects  moving  in  the  grass 
could  be  heard.  It  was  an  hour  when  men  who  had 
any  thoughts  beyond  horses  and  gold  might  have  fan- 
cied angels  passing  through  the  still,  fair  land,  and 
have  almost  expected  to  see  them. 

Suddenly  Ray  noticed  a  small  square  of  something 
white  in  the  very  center  of  the  trunk  of  a  large  cot- 
ton-wood tree.  It  looked  like  a  notice  nailed  up 
there,  and  might  be  some  word  which  the  advance 
party  had  left,  either  of  warning  or  direction.  lie 
pointed  it  out  to  the  drover,  arid  sent  him  for  it. 
The  man  came  back  evidently  puzzled,  turning  the 
piece  of  paper  over  and  over  in  his  hands,  as  peo- 
ple do  a  letter  whose  superscription  is  unknown  to 
them.  With  an  oath  of  impatience  Ray  asked  its 
meaning. 

"  Derned  if  I  can  tell,  cap ;  "  and  he  read  aloud,  in  a 
slow  lumbering  voice,  as  he  walked,  "  '  What — shall 
— it — profit  a  man — if — he  gain — the  whole  world — 
and — lose — his — own  soul  ? '  '  What — shall — a  man 
— give — in  exchange — for — his  soul  ? ' ! 

This  poor  heathen  in  a  Christian  country  had  never 
heard  the  words  before,  and  they  struck  him  with  a 


240  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

force  which  hearts  dulled  by  thoughtless  iteration 
have  no  conception  of.  He  handed  the  paper  to 
Raymund  and  sat  down  without  a  word.  It  was 
only  a  little  leaflet  with  the  two  awful  questions 
printed  in  large  letters  upon  it.  Some  good  man, 
resting  there,  had  nailed  it  to  the  tree  ere  he  left  his 
camp,  trusting  to  the  Master  of  assemblies  to  fasten 
its  inquiries  surely  in  some  impenitent,  thoughtless 
soul. 

Ray  was  annoyed  and  troubled.  The  words,  falling 
one  by  one  from  the  lips  of  such  an  unlikely  mes- 
senger, came  as  unexpectedly  and  as  forceful  as  if 
some  angel  had  let  them  fall  from  mid-air.  He  had 
heard  them  often  before,  but  never  as  he  heard  them 
in  that  lonely  solemn  temple  of  God.  The  words  of 
"Amos,  the  herdsman  of  Tekoa,"  to  the  sinful  chil- 
dren of  Israel,  were  not  more  "the  words  of  the 
Lord,"  than  were  these  questions  so  put  to  Ray  by 
this  almost  pagan  herdsman  of  the  Texan  prairies. 
"  What  shall  it  profit?  "  "  What  shall  he  give  in  ex- 
change?" He  could  not  put  the  tremendous  prob- 
lems aside.  They  had  come  for  an  answer  in  the 
most  unexpected  place,  and  at  an  hour  when  his 
mind  was  full  of  very  different  considerations.  They 
affected  him  as  things  supernatural  affect  mortality. 
He  grew  nervous  and  angry  under  the  influence ;  he 
could  not  sleep,  and  about  midnight  he  rose  and 


LIFE  AND  DEATH.  2il 

began  to  pace  the  turfy  spot  on  which  they  had 
made  their  camp.  Then  the  herdsman  also  lifted  his 
head,  and,  leaning  upon  his  elbow,  said  : 

"  Cap,  them  thar  were  kind  o'  queer  words.  Ken 
you  see  the  bearin's  of  'em  ? " 

"  I  reckon,  Leff,  they  mean  just  about  this — what 
good  will  it  do  a  man  to  win  the  whole  world  and 
go  to  the  devil  at  the  last  end  ? " 

"  And  the  '  exchange '  business,  cap  ? " 

"If  the  devil  offered  you  money,  land,  cattle, 
women,  wine,  every  thing  men  like,  in  exchange 
for  your  soul,  would  you  make  the  trade?  That's 
about  it." 

"  Would  you,  cap  ?  You've  had  book-learnin',  and 
aren't  to  be  beat  in  a  trade  with  any  body — man  or 
devil — now  would  you  ? " 

"  It's  a  trade  I  haven't  thought  about,  Leff ;  we'll 
adjourn  the  subject,  I  reckon." 

"  Do  you  want  that  bit  o'  paper,  cap  ?  " 

"  No." 

"Then  I'll  keep  it.  I'd  like  to  see  when  I  git 
time  what  ideas  it  hangs  out." 

In  a  couple  of  hours  Ray  called  the  man  impa- 
tiently. 

"Saddle  up,  Leff.  I  can't  sleep,  and  we  may  as 
well  travel ;  there  is  moonshine  enough." 

He  hoped  in  action  to   get  rid  of  the   unhappy, 
16 


242  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

remorseful  feeling  which  made  him  so  wretched  and 
unwillingly  thoughtful ;  but  he  was  disappointed. 
Leff  was  always  silent,  this  night  more  than  usually 
so.  The  Mexican  plodded  along,  offering  no  remark, 
but  an  occasional  sacristie!  which  might  be  either  an 
exclamation  of  fear,  or  anger,  or  superstition.  As  it 
grew  toward  dawn  the  prairie  was  misty  and  chill, 
and  full  of  strange  illusions.  Ray  was  weary  and 
nervous,  and  when  he  reached  camp,  roused  the 
sleeping  men,  and  ordered  breakfast  to  be  made  at 
once. 

As  they  sat  eating  it  they  heard  a  sound  which 
made  every  man  drop  his  cup,  and  at  the  same  mo- 
ment Ray  leaped  to  his  feet,  and  called  out,  "  Rifles 
and  saddles !  Indians ! " 

There  was  no  doubt  of  it.  Quick  sharp  volleys  of 
musketry,  answered  by  the  well-known  Comanche 
yell,  came  up  the  narrow  defile,  and  ere  they  could 
determine  what  was  best  to  be  done  fugitives  in 
uniform  were  seen  approaching.  They  said  their 
captain  and  twenty  men  had  been  surprised  by  a 
party  of  Indians,  and  the  captain  and  six  others  had 
already  fallen.  Ray  was  no  physical  coward ;  in  a 
few  moments  he  was  at  the  head  of  his  party,  riding 
hard  to  the  rescue ;  and  as  the  Indians  could  not  esti- 
mate the  force  of  the  relieving  party,  they  thought 
it  most  prudent  to  retreat.  They  took  time, 


LIFE  AND  DEATH.  243 

ever,  to  scalp  the  wounded  captain.  The  man  was 
still  alive  when  Kay  reached  his  side,  and  his  piti- 
ful cries  for  some  one  to  put  him  out  of  torture 
made  even  those  accustomed  to  terrible  deeds  trem- 
ble. 

But  when  Ray  looked  in  his  face  his  heart  hard- 
ened. The  blood-drenched  features  were  those  of 
his  sister's  husband,  and,  almost  with  a  feeling  of 
triumph,  he  said : 

"Denis  Grady,  it  is  Raymund  Briffault  that  has 
come  to  see  you  die.  The  Comanche  have  done  my 
work  well.  A  hound  like  you  is  good  enough,  killed 
by  an  Indian  knife." 

The  dying  man  gave  a  cry  of  hopeless  agony  as 
Ray  turned  to  a  dying  soldier  lying  near.  To  his 
lips  Ray  put  a  canteen,  and  the  man  said,  with  a 
glance  of  bitter  reproach  at  his  captain, 

"  He  was  drunk  when  he  ordered  us  into  this 
death-trap — six  good  lives  for  a  bottle  of  whisky- 
give  the  other  boys  a  drink — I'm  gone — God  forgive 
me!" 

In  the  meantime  an  old  frontiersman  had  looked 
at  Grady's  scalp. 

"  It's  a  careless  job  for  them  Comanche  devils  to 
have  done.  There's  one  chance  in  a  thousand  for 
him.  We  ought  to  give  him  it,  cap." 

"  Do  what  you  like,  Gilleland ; "  and,  after  a  mo- 


24A  THE  LOST  SILVER  .OF  BKIFFAULT. 

ment's  hesitation,  lie  took  his  silk  handkerchief  from 
his  pocket  and  gave  it  to  the  man.  Fortunately  it 
was  still  very  early,  and  Captain  Grady's  head  was 
covered  with  the  handkerchief,  soaked  in  water,  and 
so,  moaning  and  shrieking,  he  was  carried  to  Ray's 
camp.  Then  there  was  necessarily  a  delay  which 
Ray  could  ill  brook ;  but  Grady  could  not  endure 
any  movement,  and  no  one,  even  of  his  own  com- 
pany, was  willing  to  put  an  end  to  the  misery  of  the 
dying  man,  though  he  constantly  prayed  them  for 
the  mercy. 

On  the  second  night  Raymund  awoke  suddenly, 
and  there  was  a  feeling  of  pity  in  his  heart.  The 
camp-fire  was  burning  low  and  red,  and  in  its  glow  a 
man  was  sitting  by  the  blanket  on  which  Grady  lay 
dying  of  the  agony  which  was  forcing  life  from  all 
its  citadels. 

"  Blessed  are  the  merciful :  for  they  shall  obtain 
mercy."  He  did  not  know  where  the  words  came 
from  ;  but  there  they  were.  If  an  angel  had  spoken 
them  in  his  ear  they  could  have  been  no  more  dis- 
tinctly heard.  He  went  straight  to  Grady,  and, 
stooping  down,  said : 

"  Grady,  I  have  come  to  forgive  you.  If  a  bad 
man  like  Raymund  Briffault  can  do  that,  you  may 
surely  ask  the  Almighty  for  pardon.  He  is  a  sight 
more  merciful  than  I  am." 


LIFE  AND  DEATH.  245 

"  I'm  sorry,  Briffault.  I  deserve  all  I  suffer ;  I've 
been  a  brute ;  tell  Gloria  Fin  sorry." 

"Think  of  yourself  at  this  hour,  Grady.  I'm  no 
preacher,  but  I  know,  and  you  know,  there  is  mercy 
for  all  that  ask  it.  You  had  better  talk  to  God  than 
to  ine.  I  have  forgiven  you — fully  forgiven  you." 

He  turned  away  then,  and  sat  down  under  a  tree  a 
little  way  off,  and  there  was  a  tender,  glowing  feel- 
ing at  his  heart.  He  made  no  formal  prayer,  he  was 
not  conscious  that  he  was  praying ;  but  the  thoughts 
of  mercy,  the  solemn  feelings  of  imploration  that 
were  in  his  soul,  were  truest  prayer. 

At  the  chill  dawn  Grady  died  in  such  agony  that 
all  the  vast  silent  spaces  seemed  to  be  penetrated 
with  terror  and  misery.  "  What  profit  f  "  If  lie 
gained  the  whole  world  and  had  to  face  death  with- 
out God,  "  what  profit  f  "  These  two  words  haunted 
Bay  perpetually.  If  he  drank,  if  he  gambled,  if  he 
made  a  trade,  something  asked  him,  "  What  profit?" 
He  wished  heartily  that  he  had  never  seen  that  bit 
of  paper,  and  soon  after,  when  Leff  wanted  to  talk 
to  him  about  it,  he  said, 

"  Go  to  a  minister,  Leff ;  that  kind  of  thing  is  their 
business,  and  they  can  give  you  all  the  points." 

But  he  wondered  at  Leff's  anxiety,  and  compared 
it  with  his  own,  and  after  some  days  of  restless  un- 
happincss  he  thought, 


246  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

"I'll  go  home  and  see  Cassia  and  the  children, 
and  I'll  pay  John  Preston  that  seven  hundred 
dollars,  and  then  perhaps  I  shall  feel  more  con- 
tented." 

When  any  idea  took  possession  of  Ray's  mind  he 
never  rested  until  he  put  it  into  action  ;  so  two  weeks 
after  his  determination  he  found  himself  near  his 
home.  On  the  prairie  he  met  his  two  eldest  daugh- 
ters taking  their  morning  ride,  and  they  turned  with 
him,  and  came  galloping  joyfully  up  the  avenue  at 
his  side.  Cassia  was  sewing  on  the  veranda,  the 
younger  children  playing  in  the  shady  corner  beside 
her.  She  threw  down  her  work  and  went,  with 
outstretched  arms,  to  meet  them.  Her  face  was  so 
radiant,  her  whole  attitude  so  loving,  that  Ray  flung 
himself  from  his  horse,  and  took  her  to  his  heart 
with  an  affection  and  pride  that  could  find  no  words 
tender  and  strong  enough  to  interpret  them. 

"  And  madam  ? "  he  asked. 

"  She  is  watching  for  you.  She  told  me  this  morn- 
ing you  were  coming." 


TIJK  PRODIGAL  DAUGHTER.  247 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE    PRODIGAL    DAUGHTER. 

"They  sin  who  tell  us  love  can  die: 
With  life  all  other  passions  fly, 
All  others  are  but  vanity. 

"  But  love  is  indestructible ; 

Its  holy  flame  forever  burnetli ; 

From  heaven  it  came,  to  heaven  returneth  ; 

It  soweth  here  in  toil  and  care, 

But  the  harvest  time  of  love  is  there." 

IN  the  afternoon  Kay  visited  madam.  She  evinced 
an  unusual  pleasure  and  interest  in  his  return,  and 
he  was  astonished  to  see  her  so  bright  and  well. 
Almost  constantly  in  the  company  of  children,  it 
seemed  as  if  her  face  caught  something  youthful 
from  the  little  faces  in  which  she  loved  to  look.  She 
was  sitting  at  the  window  in  a  large  crimson  chair, 
and  was  as  carefully  attired  as  if  she  were  eighteen 
instead  of  eighty.  Her  black  satin  dress,  though 
made  with  extreme  plainness,  was  of  the  richest  qual- 
ity, and  fell  in  plenteous  folds.  Her  laces  were  tine 
and  white,  her  small  thin  fingers  bright  with  glanc- 
ing diamonds  and  luminous  opals,  and  beneath  her 


248  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BEIFFAULT. 

bands  of  snow-white  hair,  her  eyes  were  limpid 
and  brilliant  as  ever.  Kay  was  proud  of  her;  he 
also  loved  her.  She  was  the  only  mother  he  remem- 
bered ;  he  kissed  her  hands  and  face  with  an  affec- 
tion she  could  not  mistake. 

"  You  have  brought  news,  Kay  ? " 

"Yes." 

"  About  Gloria's  husband  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"He  is  dead?" 

"  He  is  dead.     How  do  you  know  ? " 

"The  old  see  visions  and  dream  dreams.  One 
morning  I  saw  a  dead  man  lose  a  fight,  and  the 
dead  man  was  Denis  Grady.  Tell  me  the  particu- 
lars." 

Kay  told  her  the  whole  sad  story,  and  she  listened 
with  apparent  indifference.  But  when  he  had  left 
the  room  she  covered  her  face  and  wept.  "  So  many 
go  away,  and  I  remain,"  she  murmured.  "  Gay  and 
handsome,  strong  and  gallant,  he  has  perished  misera- 
bly, while  I,  frail  and  old  and  sorrowful,  still  live 
on."  All  thoughts  of  anger  or  revengeful  triumph 
had  departed — she  was  astonished  that  she  could  not 
feel  them  ;  even  Gloria  was  a  second  thought,  but 
when  once  she  had  presented  herself  to  madam's 
mind,  all  other  considerations  were  pushed  aside. 
Now  John  Preston  could  go  and  find  her.  She 


THE  PRODIGAL  DAUGHTER.  249 

might  see  the  dear  child  again.  She  might  have 
time  to  undo  some  of  the  evil  she  had  wrought. 
Ray  had  told  her  that  he  was  going  to  the  Preston 
ranch  on  the  following  day,  and  she  sent  a  note  by 
him,  asking  John  to  come  over  to  BrLffault  and  see 
her. 

The  visit  was  not  one  which  Ray  liked  to  make. 
There  had  been  no  intimacy  since  the  affair  of  the 
forged  name ;  and  the  seven  hundred  dollars  which 
John  paid  at  that  time  had  never  been  refunded.  But 
Ray's  awakened  conscience  now  gave  him  no  rest, 
and  he  thought,  if  he  repaid  this  debt,  and  regained 
John's  friendship,  he  might  be  more  at  ease.  He 
went  in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  when  he  knew 
John  was  sure  to  be  alone  in  his  room.  John  was 
both  astonished  and  disturbed  at  his  entrance ;  his 
brother-in-law's  character  made  him  instantly  fear 
more  shame  and  trouble.  He  rose  at  Ray's  entrance, 
but  he  did  not  speak  a  word  either  of  anger  or  of 
welcome. 

"John." 

"  Well,  sir." 

"I  have  come  to  pay  you  that  seven  hundred 
Jollars,  and  to  ask  you  to  give  me  your  friendship 
again." 

"  Do  you  think  seven  hundred  dollars  is  the  meas- 
ure of  my  friendship,  Ray!  Did  I  withdraw  my 


250  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

friendship  for  seven  hundred  dollars?  Will  I  give 
it  back  again  for  seven  hundred  dollars  ? " 

"  You  mistake  me,  John.  I  am  miserable,  not  only 
about  the  money,  but  for  the  wrong  I  did  at  that 
time.  I  wish  to  pay  it  back  with  every  cent  of  in- 
terest. I  think  I  ought." 

u  You  are  right,  you  ought.  Pay  it,  then.  I  hear 
you  can  well  afford  it." 

"But  there  is  a  debt  between  us  I  never  can  pay; 
don't  think  I  have  forgotten  it.  I  know  the  full 
value  of  what  you  did  for  me  at  that  time.  John,  I 
am  truly  sorry  for  the  past ;  wont  you  be  my  friend 
again  ? " 

Then  John  lifted  his  brown,  bright  face  and 
stretched  out  his  hand  across  the  table,  and  his  gray 
eyes  had  the  twinkle  of  forced-back  tears  in  them. 

"  Thank  you,  John.  Ever  since  Grady's  death  I 
have  been  wanting  to  tell  you  this." 

"  Grady  dead  !  O  Ray,  I  hope  you  had  no  part  in 
any  man's  death !  " 

"No;  it  was  the  Comanche.  I  went  to  his  res- 
cue, but  it  was  too  late.  At  first  I  was  glad  of  the 
dreadful  fate  that  had  come  to  him;  at  the  last  i 
pitied  and  forgave  him." 

"  Thank  God  for  that !  " 

Then  they  talked  over  the  tragedy,  and  though 
Hay  said  very  little  about  his  own  feelings,  John  per- 


THE  PRODIGAL  DAUGHTER.  251 

ceived  that  God  had  spoken  to  his  conscience,  and 
that  he  was  as  wretched  as  Adam  was  when  he  went 
and  hid  himself  among  the  trees  of  the  garden. 

He  returned  with  Raymund  to  Briffault,  and  as 
madam  was  just  taking  her  afternoon  tea,  he 
joined  her.  She  was  not  a  woman  disposed  to  ap- 
proach a  question  in  any  roundabout  way ;  and  as 
soon  as  they  were  alone,  she  said, 

"  Grady  is  dead.  You  can  now  fulfill  your  promise 
about  Gloria." 

"  I  am  ready  to  do  so,  madam  ;  that  is,  I  shall  be 
in  a  week  or  ten  days.  Where  do  you  think  I  ought 
to  seek  her  first  ?  In  New  Orleans  ?" 

"  No ;  she  would  go  farther  from  home.  She 
knew  her  brother  often  visited  New  Orleans,  and  she 
would  have  felt  her  life  constrained  by  that  knowl- 
edge. Gloria  would  seek  perfect  freedom." 

"  Where  ? " 

UI  am  sure  she  would  go  to  New  York.  Her 
memories  of  that  city  were  all  happy  ones.  She 
knew  it  partially,  and  its  rapid  life  attracted  her.  I 
have  no  doubt  she  is  in  New  York." 

"  Have  you  any  clew  to  give  me  ? " 

"  I  have  no  clew  of  any  kind.  You  must  trust  to 
your  own  judgment  entirely." 

"  Then  I  will  do  my  best.  May  God  bless  the 
effort  1" 


252  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

"  "Write  to  me  occasionally.  I  shall  sit  here,  and 
watch  and  wait.  There  is  no  harder  work,  John." 

"  I  will  remember  that.  Once  a  week  I  will  write 
though  I  have  nothing  but  failure  to  report." 

"  Thank  you,  John.  Disappointment  is  better  than 
suspense." 

He  tried  several  times  to  renew  the  spiritual  confi- 
dence that  had  been  between  them  on  his  previous 
visit,  but  all  his  efforts  were  forced  and  vain,  and 
madam  made  no  response  to  them,  for 

"  We  cannot  kindle  when  we  will 
The  fire  that  in- our  heart  resides; 

The  Spirit  bloweth,  and  is  still : 
In  mystery  our  soul  abides." 

But,  as  she  held  his  hand  at  their  parting,  she  said,  in 
a  low,  hesitating  voice  : 

"  Have  you  considered  all,  John  ?  Gloria  was  vain 
and  weak — she  may  not  be  a  good  woman — she  may 
be  a  very  bad  woman — even  among  the  lost  ones." 

John's  eyes  kindled :  the  man's  soul  sprang  into 
his  face. 

"  Madam,"  he  said,  "  what  then  ?  Christ  came  to 
seek  and  to  save  the  lost.  Are  we  not  all  lost  ?  St. 
John  uses  a  very  broad  expression;  I  want  you  to 
think  about  it :  '  Jesus  Christ  is  the  propitiation  for 
our  sins:  and  not  for  ours  only,  but  also  for  the  sins 
of  tlie  whole  world?  Who  can  narrow  that  zone  of 


THE  PRODIGAL  DAUGHTER.  253 

mercy  ?  God  willeth  not  that  any  should  perish. 
There  was  one  noble  soul,  Thomas  Erskine,  of  Lin- 
lathen,  who  dared  to  say  boldly  from  his  pulpit,  '  "We 
are  lost  here  as  much  as  there?  Christ  is  sufficient  to 
the  very  uttermost.  Do  you  think,  then,  that  Gloria, 
for  whom  prayer  has  gone  up  continually,  is  lost  ? 
O  no,  madam !  O  no  ! " 

"  John,  you  almost  make  me  to  hope.  Last  night, 
as  I  sat  alone,  I  thought  of  many  things — thought  of 
how  patient  God  had  been  with  me — so  long  patient 
— and  I  wept  very  bitterly,  John." 

"  Those  were  good  tears,  madam.  Even  Moham- 
med says  that  among  the  seven  men  whom  God  will 
draw  under  his  shadow  on  that  day  when  there  will 
be  no  shadow,  is  'the  man  who  remembereth  God 
when  he  is  alone,  and  weepeth.'  Your  Father  is 
surely  calling  you  ;  arise  and  go  to  him." 

"  Farewell,  John  Preston.  I  hope  to  hear  good 
news  from  you." 

"  It  is  sure  to  come.     Farewell." 

"  John — one  moment — I  had  forgotten."  And  she 
put  a  purse  into  his  hand. 

He  pushed  it  gently  back. 

"  No  ;  I  have  enough.   The  expense  must  be  mine." 

"  Don't  be  selfish,  John.  Allow  me  to  help.  Take 
it  for  some  poor  soul.  I  have  given  it  after  a  hard 
struggle.  Don't  refuse  my  offering." 


254:  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BEIFFAULT. 

"  Indeed,  I  will  not  refuse  it.  I  will  try  and  do 
some  good  with  every  dollar." 

She  turned  her  face  away,  and  he  left  her.  He 
was  much  astonished  at  the  circumstance,  for  though 
he  had  heard  at  intervals  that  madam  was  miserly,  he 
had  not  believed  the  accusation.  It  seemed  so  incon- 
gruous with  the  self-indulgent  way  in  which  she 
lived,  and  with  many  other  circumstances  which  he 
readily  recalled. 

Before  leaving  the  house  he  wished  to  see  Cassia. 
He  found  her  in  her  sewing-room,  cutting  out  cloth- 
ing for  her  large  family.  She  straightened  herself 
as  he  entered,  and,  with  a  smile,  laid  the  scissors  upon 
the  table,  and  sat  down  to  chat  with  him.  Mary  Brif- 
fault,  now  a  lovely  girl, 

"  Grown  to  her  rosy  grace,  like  the  rose  apple,  high  in  the  branches," 

was  at  the  machine,  sewing.  John  kissed  her  and 
told  her  to  go  and  keep  madam  company  a  little  time 
while  he  spoke  to  her  mother.  Then  Cassia  looked 
at  him  anxiously.  The  remark  indicated  a  desire  for 
private  conversation,  and  she  had  learned  to  fear  tid- 
ings she  had  to  hear  alone. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  John  ?  Why  did  you  send 
Mary  away  ? " 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about  Gloria." 

"Of"     Cassia's   face  grew  cold  and  indifferent. 


THE  PRODIGAL  DAUGHTER.  255 

Gloria  had  brought  her  so  much  sorrow  that 
she  felt  as  if  any  other  subject  would  be  more 
pleasant. 

"  I  am  going  away  to  try  and  find  her." 

"John!" 

"  I  shall  go  to  New  York  first.  I  may  be  a  long 
time  away.  Is  there  any  thing  I  can  do  for  you, 
Cassia,  before  I  go  ? " 

She  longed  to  cry,  but  she  would  not. 

"  There  is  nothing  you  can  do  now.  I  wanted  you 
to  try  and  influence  Ray.  Sterne's  business  is  for 
sale ;  why  should  he  not  buy  it  ?  If  he  has  not 
money  enough,  we  could  sell  Briffault.  I  dislike  the 
place  so  much,  and  madam  is  now  more  inclined  than 
she  ever  was  before  to  do  something  to  keep  Ray  at 
home.  But  Gloria  crosses  my  plans  and  hopes  again. 
She  has  been  a  great  sorrow  to  me." 

"  Dear  Cassia,  you  are  more  unjust,  more  unkind, 
than  I  ever  saw  you.  Try  and  be  generous." 

"  One  gets  tired  of  being  generous,  John,  when 
generosity  is  always  abused." 

"  Cassia,  I  promised  madam,  long  ago,  to  seek  Glo- 
ria when  I  could  do  so  without  wrong,  ller  husband 
is  dead.  No  one  has  now  a  better  right  to  seek  her 
than  I  have." 

"  O  dear  !  Then  you  mean  to  marry  her  ?  After 
all  these  years  you  are  still  infatuated  ? " 


256  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

"  Yes,  I  mean  to  marry  her.  I  am,  I  will  admit, 
still  infatuated." 

;<  Then  there  is  no  more  to  be  said." 

She  rose  and  went  back  to  her  work,  and  kept  her 
eyes  resolutely  dropped  upon  it. 

"  Good-bye,  Cassia." 

He  put  his  arm  round  her  waist  and  lifted  her  face 
and  kissed  it.  She  was  cold  and  unresponsive,  and 
John  lingered  in  hopes  of  some  kinder  farewell.  She 
let  him  leave  the  room  without  another  look  or  word  ; 
but  when  he  had  shut  the  door,  and  she  heard  his 
strong,  firm  footstep  receding  down  the  hall,  she 
softened  all  over.  Throwing  down  her  work  she  fol- 
lowed him  with  fleet  steps,  and,  as  he  stood  upon  the 
veranda,  she  put  her  hands  upon  his  shoulders,  she 
turned  him  round  and  kissed  him,  and  whispered : 

"  Forgive  me,  John.  I  was  shamefully  cross,  but  I 
am  sorry,  dear.  I  am  glad  you  are  going ;  and 
I  hope,  darling,  that  you  will  find  Gloria ;  and  when 
you  bring  her  home  I'll  try  and  love  her  truly  for 
your  sake." 

And  O,  how  proud  and  happy  John  was  ! 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear  Cassia.  Now  I  can  go  with 
a  light  heart.  You  have  made  me  hopeful  and 
joyful." 

Then  the  children  were  called,  and  the  parting  was 
made  amid  their  smiles  and  kisses,  and  pretty  childish 


THE  PRODIGAL  DAUGHTER.  257 

commissions  for  "  dolls  that  could  sing,"  and  "  real 
steam-engines,"  and  tools,  and  books,  and  Mary's  final 
whisper  about  "  a  new  piano."  At  the  last  point  of 
view  in  the  avenue  he  turned  and  lifted  his  hat  to 
Cassia,  and  the  boys  and  girls  at  her  side,  and  they 
answered  it  with  a  cheery 

"Good-bye,  Uncle  John!" 

In  little  more  than  a  week  John  was  ready  for  his 
journey.  Just  before  leaving  he  went  to  Souda's.  In 
its  summer  dress  the  ruinous  old  house  showed  few 
signs  of  its  decay.  It  was  covered  with  vines,  and 
the  garden  was  a  thick,  shady  tangle  of  oleander  and 
myrtle  trees.  Their  warm,  rich  perfume  filled  the 
air;  and  just  outside  the  gate  the  ocean  broke,  almost 
sadly,  upon  the  sands.  John  stood  by  it  thinking. 
He  had  gone  a  little  early  to  the  class-meeting,  as  he 
wished  to  speak  to  Souda  about  madam,  and  he  waited 
there  until  her  household  duties  allowed  her  to  come 
to  him. 

He  was  a  little  depressed.  He  had  not  received 
any  assuring  answer  to  his  prayers  concerning  the 
mission  he  was  going  on,  and  he  was  not  quite  satis- 
fied in  his  own  mind  about  it.  He  wondered  if  he 
was  leaving  a  positive  and  evident  duty  for  work  of 
his  own  setting.  There  were  Cassia  and  Ray  and 
madam,  to  all  of  whom  he  could  speak  many  a  word 

of  help  and  comfort.     There  were  his  two  class-meet- 
17 


258  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

ings,  his  appointments  for  local  preaching,  his  Bible 
class,  his  manifold  opportunities  on  his  western  jour- 
neys. Was  it  right  and  wise  to  leave  all  these,  and 
go  seeking  the  one  woman  whom  he  loved  ?  Was  it 
his  own  selfish  love  that  was  leading  him  ?  John 
Preston  had  a  tender  conscience,  and  these  questions 
troubled  him  much.  He  had  prayed  for  direction, 
but  he  did  not  yet  feel  as  if  his  Father  had  given  him 
the  special  word  of  command,  "  This  is  the  way,  walk 
ye  in  it." 

As  he  was  musing  upon  these  tilings  Souda  ap- 
proached him.  He  watched  her  coming  through  the 
myrtle  trees;  her  tall  form  in  spotless,  ample  gar- 
ments, her  turbaned  head  thrown  a  little  backward, 
her  strong  arms  folded  over  her  breast ;  and  she  gave 
him  the  impression  of  one  able  and  willing  to  help. 

"  Good-ebening,  Mass'  John,"  she  said,  cheerily. 

"  Good  evening,  Souda.  I  am  going  away,  perhaps 
for  a  long  time,  and  I  must  leave  madam  upon  your 
conscience  and  your  affection,  Souda.  You  have  a 
great  influence  over  her ;  go  often  and  see  her,  go 
very  often.  Get  her  to  talk  to  you.  Not  neglecting 
your  other  work,  you  must  also  do  this." 

"  Mighty  long  way  to  Briffault,  Mass'  John,  but 
I'll  go,  sure,  jist  as  often  as  I  kin." 

"  Souda,  when  you  pray  about  any  thing,  and  get 
no  answer,  no  clear  answer,  what  do  you  think  ?  " 


THE  PRODIGAL  DAUGHTER.  259 

"  I  allays  gits  de  clear  answer.  Ef  de  Lord  says 
de  plain  words  to  me,  dat  am  clear,  aint  it,  Mass' 
John?  Ef  he  don't  say  any  word  at  all,  aint  dat 
sayin'  no?  Ef  I  ax  him,  <  Please,  good  Lord,  gib  me 
dis  fing,  or  gib  me  dat  ting,'  and  he  neber  says  one 
word,  and  neber  gives  me  it,  course  den  I  knows  I'se 
'fused.  I  don't  'spect  he  is  gwine  to  'splain  to  me  jist 
now  why  I'se  'fused,  kase  he'll  do  dat  in  de  properest 
time." 

"  That  is  it,  Sonda.     You  are  right." 

"  Mass'  John,  why  did  you  change  de  class  night  ? " 

"  Because,  as  I  told  you,  I  am  going  away,  going  to 
seek  Miss  Gloria." 

"  O,  my  Lord  !  Is  dat  really  so  ?  I'se  wondered 
and  wondered  how  she  was  to  git  back  home.  I 
didn't  fink  ob  you  gwine  wid  de  peace  message." 

"  I  am  not  sure  whether  I  am  doing  right  to  go, 
Souda,  You  know  I  have  so  many  duties  here." 

"  You  is  doinj  jist  what  de  Lord  Jesus  wants  you 
to  do.  You  is  leavin'  de  ninety  and  nine  sheep  in 
de  fold,  and  gwine  into  de  wil'erness  after  de  lost  one. 
And  I'm  sure  you'll  'member  de  way  he  acted  'bout 
de  wanderer.  He  didn't  git  wearied  wid  de  trouble, 
nor  cross  'bout  de  searchin' ;  and  when  he  found  it, 
he  laid  it  on  his  shoulders  'joicing  !  Mass'  John, 
'joicing !  fink  ob  dat !  He  didn't  blame  it,  and  rake 
up  all  de  ole  faults,  and  say,  '  You  was  allays  j  urn  pin' 


2uO  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BHIFFAULT. 

do  wall,  and  runnin'  'way  from  de  fold.'  He  didn't 
frow  up  fings  to  it,  '  You  did  dis,  or  de  oder.'  He 
jist  cast  all  de  sin  and  de  trouble  'hind  his  back,  and 
carried  it  home,  'joicin'  !  " 

John  looked  gratefully  into  Souda's  strong,  glow- 
ing countenance  ;  all  his  doubts  and  fears  were  gone. 
He  went  back  to  the  house  with  her,  and  stood  up  in 
his  place,  and  spoke  to  the  people  gathered  there 
with  mighty  power.  There  were  eighteen  of  them, 
men  and  women,  mostly  past  the  middle  of  life,  who 
had  known  toil  and  sorrow,  and  had  borne  the  bur- 
den and  heat  of  the  day.  And  as  he  was  speaking 
to  them  a  thought  came  into  his  heart,  and,  with- 
out disputing,  he  gave  it  to  them,  that  it  might  be 
realized  in  action. 

"  Are  you  not  all  Briffaults  ?"  he  inquired. 

"  All  ob  us  'cept  ole  Jude,  in  de  corner  dar.  He 
'longed  to  the  Green  fambly,"  answered  Souda. 

"  You  all  remember  madam  ? " 

"  Yes  !  "    "  Yes  ! "    «  Yes ! " 

"  You  thought  her  a  hard  mistress  ?  " 

"  Yes ! "  The  answer  was  scattering  and  half- 
reluctant. 

"She  is  now  a  very  old  woman,  she  cannot  live 
long.  She  is  trying  to  find  her  way  back  to  God, 
and  she  cannot  pray.  Who  among  you  will  pray  for 
her  ?  Who  among  you,  forgetting  all  his  own  wrongs, 


THE  PRODIGAL  DAUGHTER.  261 

will  say,   '  Pardon   her  transgressions  and   love  her 

freely?'" 

«!!»  «u»   uif»     The  answer  was  a  universal 

one,  and  before  its  echo  had  died  away,  a  very  old 
man,  in  a  thin,  trembling  voice,  began  singing : 

"  '  When  de  sinner  got  no  heart  to  pray, 

0  Lord  Je=tis,  on  de  cross! 
When  de  sinner  got  no  word  to  say, 

Pray,  Lord  Jesus,  on  de  cross ! 
0  sinner,  neber  min'  how  bad  you  be, 
Look  away !     Look  away  to  Calvary  1 '  " 

While  this  "spiritual"  was  being  sung,  with  an 
amazing  pathos  of  imploration,  John  slipped  from 
the  room.  He  knew  that  they  would  probably  re- 
main singing  and  praying  until  midnight,  and  that 
Souda's  influence  would  be  sufficient  to  keep  the 
meeting  in  order.  The  mention  of  madam  had 
stirred  their  hearts,  and  had  brought  back  to  their 
thoughts  sorrowful  days  of  sin  and  trial.  They 
spoke  to  one  another  freely,  in  some  cases  candidly 
acknowledging  their  own  faults.  For  time  had  soft- 
ened all  hard  memories,  and  the  elegant  old  lady,  al- 
ways so  richly  dressed,  so  "  A-shinin'  wid  de  golden 
jewels,"  had  become  to  them  a  source  of  pride  rather 
than  of  anger. 

"  We  was  mighty  contrary,  ebery  one  ob  us, " 
one  old  woman  admitted ;  "  sometimes  de  debil 


262  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

would  git  in  me,  and  I'd  try  fur  to  be  as  ugly  as  I 
could." 

"  An'  it's  a  fac',  brothers  and  sisters.  I  did  steal  de 
corn  what  she  had  me  whipped  fur.  I  hadn't  'ligion 
in  dem  days,  and  my  pal  in  bery  sticky." 

"Nobody  eber  keep  sich  Christmas  times  as  we 
kep'  on  de  Briffault  place." 

"  We  was  de  quality  'mong  de  colored  people." 

"  Mighty  proud  ob  ole  missis  I  was.  She  look  like 
a  queen  a-standin'  on  de  steps  in  de  mornin',  all  white 
and  shinin' ;  and  when  she  say  to  me,  '  Mose,  go  to 
de  cotton  field  and  see  to  de  hands  to-day,'  I  feel 
all  ober  like  I  glad  fur  to  die  fur  her,  ef  she  tell 
me  to." 

"  We  had  our  trials  ebery  hour  of  de  day  wid  her, 
us  'oornan  folks  had,  dat  was  in  de  house,"  moaned 
old  Jane  ;  and  Souda,  perceiving  that  Jane  was  in  a 
mood  to  go  "  way  down  on  de  groun',"  lifted  her 
strong,  resonant  voice  in  the  Negro  Methodists' 
favorite  spiritual : 

'•  '  De  fox  hab  de  hole  in  de  groun', 
An'  de  bird  hab  nest  in  de  air, 
An'  ebery  t'ing  hab  a  hiding-place, 
But  we  poor  sinners  hab  none. 
Now  aint  dat  hard  trials  ? 
Great  tribulation? 
Aint  dat  bard  trials  ? 
Fm  boun'  to  leave  dis  worl'. 


THE  PRODIGAL  DAUGHTER. 

Methodist,  Methodist  is  my  name, 

Methodist  till  I  du 
I'll  be  baptize  in  de  Methodist  name, 

Methodist  till  I  die. 
You  may  go  dis-a  way, 
You  may  go  dat-a  way, 
You  may  go  from  door  to  door, 
But  ef  you  hav'n't  de  grace  ob  God  in  your  heart 
Do  debil  will  git  you,  sure! '  " 


With  every  verse  their  warm  hearts  grew  warmer. 
"  Babylon's  Fallen,"  "  Most  Done  Trabelin,"  "  Gid- 
eon's Band  ob  Milk-white  Horses,"  and  many  another 
stirring  "  spiritual,"  made  the  old  rooms  forget  their 
first  echoes  of  rattling  dice  and  clinking  glass,  of 
buccaneer  songs  and  jokes,  thoughtless  oaths  and  pas- 
sionate words.  One  by  one  they  went  away  singing, 
until  Souda  and  Jane  and  two  others  were  left  alone. 
Then  Souda  told  them,  "  Mass'  John  Preston  is  gwine 
to  find  Miss  Gloria,  de  poor  lamb,  los'  in  de  wilder- 
ness ;"  and  ere  she  was  aware,  her  feet  began  to  move, 
and  her  large  hands  to  softly  pat  her  knees,  and  in  a 
voice  of  triumph  she  commenced  : 

''  •  De  Great  Householder  gwine  to  sweep  de  house, 
Gwine  to  light  de  can'le  and  sweep  de  whole  house, 

T'ink  of  dat,  little  chillen  ! 
Gwine  to  seek  and  find  de  piece  ob  silver, 
Gwine  to  seek  it  through  de  day  and  midnight, 

T'ink  of  dat,  little  chillen ! 


264  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

When  de  Master  finds  de  piece  ob  silver, 

What  a  shouting,  little  chillen! 
What  a  joy  among  de  angels,  little  chillen! 
What  a  shouting  and  a  glory,  little  chillen ! 

0  yes !  0  yes.     Bound  to  find  de  silver, 

Bound  to  count  de  silver  in  de  Promised  Land ! 

With  a  shouting  and  a  glory  in  de  Promised  Land ! '  " 

John  had  felt  no  hesitancy  in  telling  Sonda  of  the 
object  of  his  journey,  nor  of  speaking  to  the  Briffault 
servants  about  madam.  Nothing  relating  to  the 
freedmen  and  freed  women  is  so  remarkable  as  their 
reticence  concerning  their  old  masters,  and  their  re- 
luctance to  speak  evil  of  them.  Whatever  the  Brif- 
fault  servants  said  among  themselves,  every  one  of 
them  spoke  with  pride  of  "madam"  and  "Master 
Ray  "  to  strangers. 

"  Mass'  Ray  !  He  de  finest  gentleman  in  de  whole 
worl',"  said  Mose,  one  day,  in  Sterne's  store,  when 
that  person  had  made  an  uncomplimentary  remark 
about  his  late  partner ;  and  Mose  dropped  his  load, 
rolled  his  sleeves  above  his  brawny  shoulders,  and 
said  again,  with  an  accent  not  to  be  mistaken,  "  De 
iinest  gentleman  in  de  whole  worl' ;  I  reckon  I  know 
'bout  Mass'  Briffault,  and  I'll  lick  any  man,  black  01 
white,  what  says  he  aint." 

"  Get  on  with  your  work,  Mose,"  replied  Sterne. 

"Do  your  own  work,  Mister  Sterne.      I'se  gwine 


THE  PRODIGAL  DAUGHTER.  265 

out  ob  here,  'fore  you  costs  me  ten  dollars  for  teach- 
in'  you  how  to  speak  'bout  gentlemen."  And  in  spite 
of  Sterne's  orders,  and'  the  entreaties  of  the  waiting 
teamsters,  Mose  left  the  bundles  and  barrels  to  block 
ap  the  store  and  sidewalks  until  another  man  could 
be  found. 

And  Mose's  action  was  no  extraordinary  one.  In 
the  large  majority  of  cases  the  freed  slave,  even  in 
the  first  days  of  his  enlargement,  resented  a  word 
against  his  former  master,  and  the  softening  influence 
of  years  made  the  old  tie  almost  a  paternal  one,  the 
old  plantation  dear  and  fair  as  childhood's  home. 

Even  while  Souda  was  singing,  "  Gwine  to  seek 
and  find  de  piece  ob  silver,"  John  was  boarding  the 
tug  which  was  to  take  him  out  to  the  New  York 
steamer  lying  at  the  harbor  bar.  Her  words  to  him 
had  been  an  assurance,  and  he  was  cheerful  and  hope- 
ful. He  had  committed  his  way  to  God,  and  he  be- 
lieved that  he  would  "  order  it,"  and  bring  also  to 
pass  whatever  he  had  ordained.  His  first  work  on 
reaching  the  great  city  was  to  make  himself  familiar 
with  its  social  life,  its  hours  and  places  of  work  and 
recreation.  Then  he  began  his  search.  When 
women  were  shopping  he  lingered  about  the  doors 
of  their  favorite  stores.  In  the  park  hours  he 
watched  the  drive ;  in  the  evening  he  stood  at  the 
entrances  of  the  theaters  and  music  halls.  Some- 


266  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFA.ULT. 

times  lie  spent  day  after  day  upon  the  pleasure 
steamers  plying  to  the  resorts  on  the  bay.  His  sight, 
trained  upon  the  prairie  to  be  on  the  constant  "look- 
out," was  remarkably  keen  and  swift.  Nothing  es- 
caped it.  In  a  crowd  he  saw  every  face.  In  a  list 
of  names  any  one  having  the  slightest  resemblance 
to  "  Gloria,"  u  Briffault,"  or  "  Grady"  attracted  him 
immediately.  Going  down  a  street  he  read  with  pre- 
cision every  sign  ;  but  two  months  passed,  and  he 
had  obtained  no  clew  to  the  object  of  his  search. 

When  the  gay  world  began  to  return  from  its  holi- 
day making,  John  went  over  the  same  ground  with 
renewed  hope.  Week  after  week  he  watched  for  the 
face  he  loved  in  every  favorite  scene  of  pleasure. 
He  began  to  be  known  at  the  opera-house  and  the 
fine  theaters  as  the  man  who  bought  a  ticket  and 
then  waited  in  the  vestibule.  The  employees  per- 
ceived that  he  was  looking  for  some  one,  and  they 
tried  not  to  notice  him.  In  whispers  they  speculated 
as  to  whether  it  was  wife  or  sister  or  lady-love  who 
was  so  patiently  sought,  and  John  was  sensible  of  the 
delicacy  which  ignored  his  singular  position. 

Christmas  and  New  Year  passed  ;  it  was  the  very 
height  of  the  gay  season.  One  morning  John  was 
sitting  at  the  little  marble  table,  waiting  for  the 
breakfast  he  had  ordered.  It  was  a  cold,  clear  morn- 
ing, and  he  was  watching  the  shop-girls,  full  of  chat- 


THE  PRODIGAL  DAUGHTER.  267 

ter  and  laughter,  going  to  their  various  stores.  "  The 
Herald  "  lay  before  him,  but  he  had  not  opened  it ; 
and,  as  he  was  slowly  preparing  to  do  so,  his  coffee 
and  steak  were  ready,  and  he  put  the  paper  down  at 
his  side.  In  the  middle  of  his  meal  his  eyes  fell  upon 
the  words: 

"Ladies'  fine  imported  costumes.  Madam  Gloria 
Yaldaz,  33  West Street." 

For  a  moment  he  gazed  like  one  spell-bound  ;  then, 
rising  hastily,  he  went  to  his  room  to  consider  the 
hope  that  had  come  to  him.  For  he  remembered 
that  in  the  convent  at  San  Antonio  Gloria's  favorite 
music  teacher  had  been  a  Miss  Yaldaz.  He  had  fre- 
quently heard  her  spoken  of  ;  he  knew  that  for  some 
time  after  leaving  the  sisters,  Gloria  corresponded 
with  her.  The  conjunction  of  the  two  names  was 
circumstantial  evidence  of  the  clearest  kind  to 
John. 

He  went  at  once  to  look  at  the  house  named  in  the 
advertisement.  It  was  a  large  and  handsome  one. 
A  servant-man  was  drawing  up  the  blinds  and  polish- 
ing the  windows ;  but  there  was  little  evidence  of 
life  in  it  until  about  one  o'clock.  Then  carriage  after 
carriage  began  to  arrive  ;  there  was  a  constantly  mov- 
ing panorama  of  fine  equipages  and  fine  ladies  and 
liveried  servants  until  three  o'clock,  when  the  rush 
of  visitors  was  over,  and  John  ventured  to  call  upon 


268  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

Madam  Yaldaz.  Without  hesitation  he  was  shown 
into  a  handsome  parlor.  On  the  sofas  and  tables  the 
richest  silks  and  satins,  fine  laces,  furs  and  feathers 
were  lying.  A  couple  of  ladies  were  examining  the 
goods,  while  an  old  gentleman,  who  was  their  escort, 
stood  at  the  window,  looking  out  into  the  street,  with 
a  bored  and  rather  contemptuous  face.  John  handed 
his  card  to  the  saleswoman  in  attendance.  She  was 
trying  to  make  a  sale ;  she  bowed,  and  held  it  in  her 
hand.  Evidently  he  might  have  to  wait,  and  he  was 
rather  pleased  with  the  prospect.  He  soon  understood 
that  behind  the  folding  doors  there  was  an  inner 
sanctum  of  fashion.  The  murmur  of  voices  was 
audible,  and  first  one  and  then  another  visitor  came 
from  its  seclusion  and  went  away. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  light,  shrill,  rippling  laugh  ; 
it  began  spontaneously,  it  was  broken  off,  as  it  were, 
in  the  middle.  He  turned;  the  bearer  of  his  card 
had  disappeared,  and  he  was  alone  in  the  room.  If  it 
was  Gloria,  it  was  probably  his  name  that  had  inter- 
rupted her  mirth.  Almost  as  the  thought  crossed 
his  mind  the  doors  were  pushed  softly  apart,  and  she 
stood  a  moment  within  them,  looking  at  John. 
Never  had  he  thought  of  her  growing  to  so  perfect 
and  splendid  a  womanhood.  The  small,  round,  curly 
head  which  had  nestled  so  often  upon  his  shoulder 
was  lifted  proudly,  and  crowned  with  waving  bands 


THE  PRODIGAL  DAUGHTER.  269 

and  massive  braids.  She  wore  a  marvelous  costume  of 
brown  and  amber  satin,  and  she  seemed  to  have 
grown  taller,  and  to  have  an  air  of  authority  that 
made  her  appear  strange  to  him. 

But  the  moment  she  advanced,  with  both  hands 
outstretched,  and  a  bright,  bewitching  smile  lighting 
up  her  piquant  face,  John  recognized  the  old  Gloria. 
His  emotion  was  so  great  that  he  could  not  speak  ; 
his  lips  indeed  moved,  but  no  words  were  audible, 
and  it  was  Gloria  who,  as  she  led  him  to  a  sofa,  said, 
softly  : 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you." 

"O  Gloria!" 

"  How  did  you  find  me  out  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  seeking  you  for  half  a  year." 

She  pouted  a  little  and  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  What  for,  then  ?  Is  grandma  dead  ?  Has  she 
left  me  a  great  fortune  ? " 

She  asked  the  questions  with  a  light,  mocking 
laugh,  and  John  answered,  gravely  : 

"  No  ;  Captain  Grady  is  dead." 

"Are  you  sure  ?" 

"  Else  I  had  not  been  here,  Gloria." 

"Who  told  you?" 

"  Ray  was  present  when  he  died." 

"  Did  Ray  kill  him  at  last  2 " 

"  The  Indians  scalped  him." 


270  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

A  singular  expression  came  over  her  face ;  there 
was  a  little  fear  or  wonder  in  it. 

"  Well,  that  is  strange,"  she  said,  slowly.  "  Very 
often  I  used  to  say  to  him,  '  Denis,  I  hope,  I  do  hope, 
the  Comanche  will  scalp  you ! '  I  dare  say  he  re- 
membered it.  Now  you  must  stay  and  dine  with  me. 
O  how  much  we  shall  have  to  talk  about ! " 

"  Yes,  indeed  ;  and  I  shall  be  glad  to  stay." 

She  led  him  into  an  elegant  room,  where  a  table 
was  already  laid  for  her  meal.  John  looked  round  in 
wonder.  The  splendor  was  very  real  splendor  ;  every 
appointment  showed  not  only  tine  taste,  but  affluence. 
Gloria  watched  his  face  with  amusement,  and  after 
dinner,  as  they  sat  in  the  luxurious  chairs  before  the 
open  fire,  drinking  coffee,  she  said  : 

"  I  see  you  are  astonished,  John." 

"  I  am,  indeed." 

"  You  expected  to  find  me  a  very  miserable,  starv- 
ing prodigal,  out  at  elbows  and  toes — a  kind  of  dis- 
grace to  all  who  loved  me  ? " 

"  No,  I  did  not.  You  love  your  body  too  well  not 
to  take  good  care  of  it,  Gloria." 

i%  O,  that's  the  way  you  put  it !  " 

"  Plow  do  you  put  it  ? " 

"  A  little  different  to  that.  I  think  I  deserve  some 
credit." 

He   watched  her   toying  with  her  gold  bracelet, 


THE  PRODIGAL  DAUGHTER.  271 

watched  the  changing  lights  and  shadows  on  her 
face,  and  they  were  so  mixed,  so  contrary,  and  so 
fleeting,  that  he  knew  not  how  to  read  them.  But 
he  perceived  that  her  experience  had  not  been  favor- 
able to  her  character.  At  this  first  meeting,  however, 
they  spoke  as  friends  long  parted  are  apt  to  speak— 
of  so  many  subjects,  that  all  were  touched  in  a  pass- 
ing, superficial  manner. 

It  was  now  that  John's  trial  really  commenced. 
Before  he  found  Gloria  he  thought  it  would  be  easy 
to  forgive  her  any  thing — every  thing.  But  he  had 
not  included  in  that  bill  of  amnesty  the  kind  of  sin- 
ner he  found,  for  he  had  never  known,  never  imag- 
ined such  a  character — a  woman  whose  intense  self- 
ishness kept  her  safe  within  the  pale  of  respectable 
sins ;  a  woman  who  went  to  church  as  a  matter  of 
business  or  of  fashion  ;  who  lived  quietly  and  regu- 
larly because  dissipation  was  bad  for  her  health  and 
impaired  her  beauty  ;  who  had  no  love  affairs,  because 
she  considered  it  the  height  of  folly  to  love  any  one 
better  than  herself  ;  who  was  honest  because  honesty 
was  the  best  policy,  and  good-tempered  because  it  was 
more  comfortable  to  be  good-tempered. 

As  John  gradually  learned  from  her  the  history  of 
her  movements  after  leaving  Briffault,  he  was  aston- 
ished at  the  prudence  she  had  manifested ;  for  there 
is  no  doubt  that  the  children  of  the  world  are  wise  in 


272  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

their  generation.  The  walk  of  five  miles  to  Waul's 
Station  was  the  only  inconvenience  she  had  permitted 
herself  to  suffer.  From  thence  she  had  found  com- 
fortable transit  to  New  York,  every  mile  of  the  way. 

"  And  I  quite  enjoyed  the  journey,"  she  said  to 
John,  looking  him  directly  in  the  face  with  her  quick, 
challenging  expression.  "  Yes,  I  really  enjoyed  it. 
We  had  lovely  weather  and  nice  company,  and  I 
thought  to  myself,  'I  may  just  as  well  make  a  pleas- 
ure trip  of  it.  One  never  knows  what  is  to  come 
after.' " 

"  Were  you  not  terrified  to  find  yourself  in  such  a 
great  city  without  friends,  and  lonely  ?  O  how 
lonely  you  must  have  been  ! " 

"  After  living  with  Denis  Grady  on  the  frontier  the 
society  of  two  million  people  seemed  delightful ;  I 
was  far  more  afraid  of  him  than  of  a  city  full.  I 
had  a  very  good  plan,  also.  When  I  was  here  with 
Ray  and  Cassia  we  stayed  at  a  very  fine  hotel,  and  the 
proprietor  was  always  kind  to  me.  I  went  straight 
to  him.  I  told  him  my  true  story,  showed  him  the 
jewels  grandma  had  given  me,  and  asked  him  to  ad- 
vise me.  He  was  as  kind  and  true  as  gold.  Of 
course  I  should  have  been  questioned  and  doubted 
and  cheated  in  the  sale  of  the  stones !  He  sent  for 
the  expert  of  a  large  jewelry  firm,  and  made  him 
value  them  in  my  presence.  He  said  they  were 


THE  PRODIGAL  DAUGHTER.  273 

worth  three  thousand  five  hundred  dollars,  and  when 
the  firm  proposed  to  buy  them  I  had  only  to  take 
their  check  in  exchange." 

"  You  were  very  wise  and  fortunate,  but  how  did 
you  drift  into  this  business  ? " 

"  Yery  naturally.  One  morning  I  went  to  a  store 
on  Broadway  to  buy  myself  a  bonnet.  During  my 
previous  visit  I  had  bought  several  there,  and  the 
lady  recognized  me,  and  we  fell  into  conversation,  for 
she  was  selling  out  her  business,  and  she  thought  I 
was  rich  and  could  buy  many  things.  I  did  not  buy 
much  then,  but  I  went  back  to  my  hotel  and  thought 
very  seriously  over  my  affairs.  I  knew  that  thirty- 
five  hundred  dollars  would  not  last  forever ;  I  could 
teach  music  and  embroidery ;  I  could  make  lace. 
But  what  a  slavery  is  teaching !  and  children  I  have 
always  detested.  Lace-making  was  independent,  but 
it  made  my  eyes  red  and  tired.  I  had  no  mind  to  be 
a  lady's  maid,  and  I  was  too  pretty  to  go  into  a  store 
and  be  always  defending  myself  from  the  imperti- 
nences of  whiskered  clerks. 

"  I  thought  of  these  things  for  a  few  hours,  and 
then  I  made  up  my  mind  to  buy  the  business  of  Mad- 
am Jeanne  Deschamps,  retiring  from  millinery  to 
matrimony.  She  was  very  anxious  to  get  rid  of  it ; 
the  transfer  was  pleasantly  made,  and  a  week  after 

my  first  intention  I  walked   into  the  work-room  one 
18 


274  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

morning,  and  said :  '  Ladies,  I  am  your  employer  for 
the  future.'  The  forewoman  was  a  very  clever  busi- 
ness woman ;  I  made  a  friend  of  her.  She  gave  me 
the  best  of  advice,  arid  I  had  sense  enough  to  take  it. 
She  is  with  me  yet." 

"But  you  were  ignorant  of  the  business,  prac- 
tically ? " 

"I  did  not  need  practical  knowledge.  1  found 
skillful  hands  and  paid  them  well.  1  was  my  own 
saleswoman,  and  I  made  myself  as  charming  as  pos- 
sible to  every  one.  Very  soon  I  got  a  reputation. 
My  profits  were  enormous;  two  hundred  per  cent, 
sometimes  !  I  got  a  larger  store  ;  then  I  took  a  house 
and  furnished  it,  and  imported  line  costumes  and 
silks  and  laces,  and  whatever  I  touched  turned  into 
gold.  Last  year  I  bought  this  house,"  she  said,  rising 
and  surveying  the  handsome  room  from  her  position 
on  the  hearth-rug.  "  Yes,  John,  this  house  is  all 
mine,  from  cellar  to  roof-stone.  I  do  not  owe  a  cent, 
and  I  dare  say  if  a  friend  wanted  a  few  thousands  I 
could  let  him  have  them,  easily." 

She  looked  so  handsome,  so  self-satisfied,  so  proud 
of  her  success  ;  but  she  was  annoyed  at  John's  somber 
face  and  downcast  eyes.  He  did  not  answer  her  re- 
mark, though  he  believed  it  to  have  been  made  in  a 
little  outburst  of  regard  for  his  own  benefit. 

"  Don't  you  think  I  have  done  very  well,  John  ? " 


THE  PRODIGAL  DAUGHTER.  275 

"  Very  well,  singularly  well,  for  yourself,  as  regards 
this  world,  Gloria;  but,  dearest  heart!  what  about 
the  next  one  ?  I  was  thinking  of  that." 

"  It  seems  to  me,  John,  that  while  we  are  in  this 
world  it  is  enough  to  do  our  duty  to  this  world/' 

"  Yes,  if  we  were  going  to  stay  in  this  world  for- 
ever; but  the  soul  is  a  star-traveled  stranger  only 
here  for  a  purchase.  Time  is  given  it  to  buy  eter- 
nity with." 

"  Now,  please,  don't  preach,  John —  "  and  just  at 
that  moment  a  gay  party  entered,  who  insisted  on 
Gloria  going  with  them  to  the  opera.  She  looked 
at  John.  He  had  risen  and  gone  to  the  window,  and 
was  gazing  into  the  gas-lit  street.  His  face  was  dark 
and  troubled,  and  Gloria's  heart,  or  conscience,  pinched 
her  a  little  ;  but  she  went  away  laughing  to  prepare 
herself  for  the  entertainment.  When  she  returned 
to  the  room,  John  had  gone,  and  one  of  her  visitors 
began  to  make  himself  merry  about  the  "gloomy 
knight." 

Gloria  flashed  up  like  a  flame. 

"I  can  tell  you,"  she  said,  passionately,  "that  it 
would  take  ten,  twenty,  yes,  sir,  fifty  ordinary  men 
like  you  to  make  one  John  Preston  1 " 

She  did  not  enjoy  her  evening  after  this  episode. 
She  had  lost  control  of  herself,  she  saw  nothing  inter- 
esting, heard  no  melody  in  all  the  music.  She  was 


276  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BEIFFAULT. 

thinking  of  that  tall,  sorrowful  man  in  the  shadow  of 
the  window  curtains,  and  all  the  gay  show  was  but  a 
phantasm  of  strut  and  bluster  and  hollow  laughter. 

The  next  day  John  did  not  call,  and  she  was  rest- 
less and  unhappy. 

"  How  provoking  men  are ! "  she  exclaimed,  an- 
grily, as  she  sat  down  to  her  dinner  alone.  "  All 
day  I  have  been  waiting  to  tell  John  how  sorry  I  am, 
and  he  wont  come.  When  he  does  come  I  shall 
most  likely  not  be  able  to  say  it." 

Her  anticipation  was  partly  correct ;  she  was  cross 
and  unhappy  next  evening,  and  inclined  to  say  disa- 
greeable tilings. 

u  Who  were  your  visitors,  Gloria  ? "  John  asked. 

"  Eugene  and  Jennie  Lask,  and  May  and  Bert 
Smith  ;  very  nice  people,  indeed." 

Then  suddenly  laying  down  her  knife  and  fork, 
and  looking  John  in  the  eyes,  she  asked, 

"  Why  did  you  let  rne  go  to  the  opera  ?  You 
think  it  is  so  wicked  to  go,  and  yet  you  stood  still, 
and  never  said  one  word  to  prevent  me  from  com- 
mitting a  sin.  I  expected  you  to  speak  out,  like  a 
man." 

"  I  was  so  grieved  and  astonished — " 

"  You  were  so  jealous,  and  because  you  were  jeal- 
ous you  forgot  all  about  my  soul.  If  I  believed 
what  you  believe,  if  I  had  been  you,  John,  I  would 


THE  PKODIGAL  DAUGHTER.  277 

have  said,  *  Gloria,  don't  go  to  the  opera.  It  is  wrong 
to  go.'  I  would  have  said  it,  and  I  would  have  stood 
to  it ;  I  wouldn't  have  minded  the  queen  of  England, 
or  pope  of  Rome,  or  the  president  of  the  United 
States.  Eugene  Lask  might  have  called  me  '  pecul- 
iar,' '  gloomy,"1  any  thing  he  liked ;  I  would  have  said, 
to  the  last  moment,  4  Gloria,  don't  go  ! ' ' 

"  If  I  had  done  so,  would  you  have  staid  at  home  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  would.  If  you  had  asked  me  in  that  way, 
I  would.  I  should  have  been  so  proud  of  you !  And 
there  is  another  thing,  John  ;  you  might  wear  some- 
thing else  than  that  forever  broadcloth.  It  is  very 
good  and  very  becoming,  but  it  isn't  fashionable. 
Such  fools  as  Eugene  Lask  ought  to  be  taught  that 
men  in  stylish  coats  can  be  pious  and  stand  up  for 
their  principles.  You  missed  a  great  opportunity, 
John,  and  I'm  sorry ; "  and  she  really  seemed  to  have 
a  moment  of  genuine  feeling,  the  tears  came  into  her 
eyes,  and  she  leaned  her  head  in  her  hands  and  cried 
a  little. 

John  was  wonderfully  touched  and  happy.  He 
drew  close  to  her,  and  spoke  as  he  had  not  dared  to 
speak  for  many  years.  He  told  her  how  precious 
she  was  to  him,  and  begged  her  to  leave  all  and  go 
back  to  Texas  as  his  wife.  She  was  frightened  at  the 
fervor  and  ardor  of  devotion  she  had  roused. 

"  That   is  always  the  way,"  she  complained ;  "  the 


278  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

moment  a  poor  woman  shows  her  feeling,  it  is  'Be 
my  wife.' " 

But,  after  all,  the  conversation  was  a  step  forward, 
and  when  John  wrote  to  madam  that  week,  it  was  in 
a  more  hopeful  tone.  And  O,  how  his  letters  were 
watched  for  and  enjoyed  and  speculated  upon  !  Ray, 
indeed,  said  little,  but  he  always  listened  with  interest 
to  all  that  Cassia  had  to  tell. 

In  fact,  the  news  of  Gloria's  prosperity  had  been  a 
great  surprise  to  all.  And  perhaps  the  self-compla- 
cent, wealthy  prodigals,  who  have  done  well  unto 
themselves,  are  not  as  easy  to  forgive  as  those  who 
come  wanting  all  things,  and  humbly  throwing  them- 
selves upon  the  love  they  have  wronged.  There  are 
many  dark  corners  in  our  souls — feelings  which  we 
would'hardly  dare  to  set  naked  in  the  light  of  God 
and  conscience.  Ray  was  aware  of  a  sentiment  of 
repression,  perhaps  jealousy.  Cassia  went  to  her 
room  and  pitilessly  examined  her  heart.  "  What 
was  it  I  wished  ? "  she  asked :  "  that  John  should  find 
the  poor  girl  in  the  depths  ?  Am  I  envious  of  her 
success,  her  fine  house,  and  radiant  beauty?  O  how 
wicked  that  would  be!  She  is  Ray's  sister,  she  is 
John's  love  !  Dear  God,  forgive  the  shadow  of  evil 
in  my  heart !  " 

As  for  madam,  she  received  the  news  in  speech- 
less wonder.  She  trembled  and  laid  her  hand  upon 


THE  PRODIGAL  DAUGHTER.  270 

Cassia  for  support.  Her  lips  quivered,  her  eyes  filled, 
and  one  great  sob  shook  her,  like  wind  shakes  the 
tree-tops.  In  that  moment  Cassia  stooped  forward 
and  kissed  her.  It  was  the  first  time  she  had  dared 
to  kiss  her.  It  was  done  in  a  sudden  impulse  of  pity 
and  sympathy  and  joy.  But  after  all  those  years  of 
patience,  the  concession  had  come  at  the  right  mo- 
ment. Madam's  pale  face  flushed,  she  put  out  her 
hand,  and  said, 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear." 

And  at  that  very  hour  there  was  a  little  prayer- 
meeting  in  Souda's  kitchen.  In  the  glow  of 
the  wood  tire,  three  or  four  old  men  and  three  or 
four  old  women  were  singing  to  the  patting  of  their 
hands  and  feet — 

"  '  De  Great  Householder  gwine  to  sweep  de  house, 
Gwine  to  light  de  oan'le  and  sweep  de  whole  house, 
Gwine  to  seek  and  fin'  de  piece  ob  silver 

What  am  lost,  little  chillen ! 
When  de  Master  finds  de  piece  ob  silver, 

What  a  shoutin',  little  chillen ! 
What  a  joy  'mong  de  angels,  little  chillen ! 
What  a  shoutin'  and  a  glory,  little  chillen  ! 

0  yes  I  0  yes!     Bound  to  find  de  silver, 

Bound  to  count  de  silver  in  de  Promised  Land ! 

Wid  a  shoutin'  and  a  glory  in  de  Promised  Land  I ' " 


280  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 


CHAPTER  X. 
THE  SECRET  OF  THE  PICTURE. 

"  '  The  night  is  dark,  the  door  stands  wide, 
0  enter  in  and  rest,'  he  cried. 

"  But  alone,  afar,  I  must  watch  to-night, 

Till  the  Lord  arise  and  give  me  light. 

For  I  cannot  go  to  my  home  in  peace, 
I  cannot  rest  at  my  own  fireside, 
I  cannot  comfort  my  soul  and  say, 
'  I  will  come  to  the  Door  another  day.' 

There  is  no  more  light,  or  comfort,  or  ease, 

No  home  on  earth  evermore  for  me, 

Except  I  can  enter  Christ,  with  thee. 

"  I  lay  asleep  in  the  empty  night, 

But  God's  touch  wakened  me  up  to  see, 

And  the  Light  of  the  woild  shone  on  me." 

OKLY  that  soul-love  which  nothing  can  weary 
could  have  been  faithful  through  the  contradic- 
tions and  uncertainties  of  Gloria's  conduct  during 
the  summer  ensuing  upon  the  events.  But  John 
saw  that  he  was  gradually  gaining  a  great  influence 
over  her,  and  he  was  content  to  bear,  for  the  end 
which  he  had  set  before  himself.  In  the  beginning 


THE  SECRET  OF  THE  PICTURE.  281 

of  July  she  closed  her  house,  and  went  to  a  fash- 
ionable watering-place ;  and  for  a  time  plunged  into 
all  its  excesses,  and  seemed  to  take  a  perverse  delight 
in  provoking  John's  disapproval. 

He  did  not  suffer  her  any  more  to  run  into  sin 
without  a  distinct  warning. 

"  You  spoil  all  my  pleasure,  John,"  she  said,  fret- 
fully, one  night ;  "  how  am  I  to  enjoy  a  dance  when 
you  say  such  dreadful  things  about  dancing  ?  " 

Still,  it  was  not  all  dispute  and  disappointment ; 
John  had  many  delightful  hours  with  Gloria — long 
strolls  on  the  beach  in  twilight;  charming  sails  on 
the  moonlit  sea,  when  they  sat,  hand  in  hand,  and 
almost  let  the  boat  rock  them  back  to  shore  on  the 
incoming  tide ;  and  quiet  chats  about  home,  and  home 
affairs,  on  the  shady  lawn  in  the  cool  mornings.  Glo- 
ria knew,  in  her  own  heart,  that  John  Preston  was 
very  dear  to  her;  but  the  more  positively  this  fact 
asserted  itself,  the  more  provoking  and  contradictious 
was  her  behavior — at  one  time,  gentle,  lovable,  re- 
linquishing; again,  imperious,  adverse,  and  indif- 
ferent. But  John  took  all  her  moods  with  an  equal 
calmness;  he  saw  below  the  surface,  and  knew  that 
che  one  was,  perhaps,  as  hopeful  as  the  other — the 
rebellion,  as  well  as  the  submission,  indicated  a  cap- 
tive heart. 

One  Sabbath  evening  in  October,  after  her  return 


282  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

to  New  York,  she  was  very  tender  and  gracious. 
They  had  been  to  church  together,  they  had  sung 
out  of  the  same  hymn  book,  and  often,  during  the 
powerful  and  persuasive  sermon,  Gloria's  hand  had 
voluntarily  sought  the  strengthening  clasp  of  John's 
hand.  They  walked  slowly  and  silently  home,  and 
John  know  the  hour  for  which  he  had  prayed  and 
longed  had  come.  He  sat  by  her  side,  and  pleaded 
as  men  plead  with  one  who  is  dearer  than  life  to 
them.  He  spoke  to  her  of  the  restless,  profitless  ex- 
istence she  was  leading,  of  the  love  which  God  had 
for  her,  of  the  love  which  he  had  for  her,  of  the 
sweet  ties  of  home  and  kindred,  of  the  fair,  fresh 
land  where  their  home  would  be.  His  strong,  hand- 
some face  was  alight  with  love  and  hope,  he  held  her 
small  hands  captive ;  his  eyes,  his  words,  were  irre- 
sistible. She  smiled  on  him  through  a  mist  of  tender 
tears ;  she  whispered  on  his  breast : 

"Dear  John,  I  love  you.  I  will  give  up  every 
thing  for  you.  I  will  go  back  to  Texas  when  you 
wish  me  to." 

For  a  few  hours  they  were  rapturously  happy,  and 
John  felt  that  for  all  his  prayers  and  patience  he  had 
an  over  payment  of  delight. 

But  the  perversity  of  the  woman's  nature  was  not 
conquered.  When  morning  dawned  she  looked  at 
every  thing  in  a  different  light.  She  could  not  bear 


THE  SECRET  OF  THE  PICTURE.  283 

to  relinquish  her  independence ;  to  go  back  and  ac- 
knowledge to  madam  and  Raj  and  Cassia  that  her 
self-sufficiency  was  in  the  end  a  failure.  If  John 
really  loved  her  so  entirely,  why  might  he  not  leave 
Texas,  and  come  and  live  in  New  York  ?  She  won- 
dered she  had  not  thought  of  that  alternative  on  the 
previous  evening.  She  was  sure  it  was  the  proper 
thing  to  do. 

But  when  she  proposed  it,  John's  face  set  itself  as 
stern  and  inflexible  as  marble. 

u  You  must  come  with  me,  Gloria,"  he  said ;  "  you 
must  come  willingly.  I  am  going  back  to  Texas.  If 
you  will  keep  your  word,  and  return  as  my  wife  with 
me,  I  will  wait  any  reasonable  time  until  you  are 
ready.  If  you  will  not  go  back  with  me,  I  am  going 
at  once — this  afternoon." 

She  pouted,  she  pleaded,  she  brought  out  all  her 
enchantments ;  but  from  this  position  John  would 
not  move.  Then  she  wept  passionately,  and  John, 
weeping  also,  and  white  through  all  the  tan  and 
bronze  of  wind  and  weather,  took  her  in  his  arms  and 
kissed  her  again  and  again. 

u  Good  bye,  darling,  "  he  said  ;  "  some  day  you  will 
understand  the  love  you  are  sending  from  you — then 
we  may  be  happy." 

So  he  left  her,  but  she  did  not  believe  he  would 
leave  New  York.  He  would  stay  away,  as  he  had 


284  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

done  before,  one,  perhaps  two  days,  but  in  the  end 
she  would  find  him,  as  usual,  in  her  dining-room  at  six 
o'clock.  Three  days  she  waited  in  restless  anxiety 
and  anguish,  and  then  she  sent  a  message  to  his  hotel. 

"  Mr.  Preston  left  on  the  fourteenth,"  was  the  reply. 

It  was  a  blow  which  took  all  the  joy  and  light  out  of 
her  life.  She  tried  to  persuade  herself  that  she  was 
angry,  and  only  suffering  from  the  mortification  of 
his  hurried  departure,  and  the  annoyance  incident  to 
the  breaking  up  of  his  company.  But  O,  how  heart- 
sick, how  heart  hungry  she  was !  How  her  ear  ached 
for  the  sound  of  his  step !  How  her  eyes  longed  for 
the  sight  of  the  bright,  honest  face  which  her  folly 
and  her  pride  had  banished ! 

As  for  John,  he  was  also  unhappy  and  disappointed, 
but  he  felt  that  he  had  done  right.  He  was  sure  of 
the  influence  he  had  gained  over  the  willful,  rebell- 
ious woman,  and  he  believed  that  when  she  was  left 
to  solitude  she  would  learn  how  completely  she  had 
surrendered  her  affections.  The  moment  before  he 
decided  to  leave  her,  the  thought  had  been  far  away 
from  him  ;  it  was  one  of  those  sudden,  imperative 
decisions  which  are,  in  a  measure,  inspirations.  There 
was  no  reasoning  about  it ;  his  soul  gave  the  order, 
and  it  came  with  the  invincible  conviction  of  wisdom. 
Yet  he  suffered ;  though  he  knew  he  had  acted  wise- 
ly, he  suffered.  All  the  space  between  himself  and 


THE  SECRET  OF  THE  PICTURE.  285 

Gloria  was  filled  with  love  and  longing  and  pity. 
The  pain  he  had  thought  it  wise  to  give  her  was  a 
double  pain  to  him. 

He  had  been  more  than  a  year  away  from  Texas, 
and  it  had  been  a  very  eventful  year  at  Briffault.  In 
the  first  place,  Kaymund  had  not  found  the  payment 
of  the  seven  hundred  dollars,  nor  even  the  restoration 
of  John's  friendship,  a  sufficing  balm  for  a  wounded 
conscience.  He  was  in  comparatively  easy  circum- 
stances, but  never  in  all  his  life  had  he  been  so  rest- 
less and  wretched.  He  had  a  lonely  pain  which 
drove  him  to  the  solitude  of  the  swamp  and  the 
sea-shore.  "  The  Almighty  troubled  him."  The 
thought  of  his  turbulent  years — of  their  sin  and 
misery — their  weary,  watchful  days  and  nights — of 
how  hardly  he  had  made  a  little  money — of  the  dan- 
ger of  death,  in  which  he  had  lived  and  toiled,  and 
that  terrible  question,  "What  profit?"  waited  con- 
stantly for  its  answer. 

At  this  period  he  spent  a  great  deal  of  time  with 
madam,  and  though  they  did  not  speak  of  their  sor- 
row, a  subtle  spiritual  sympathy  made  them  under- 
stand each  other.  She  was  now  very  anxious  for  him 
to  remain  at  home,  and  she  looked  eagerly  for  some 
reliable  promise  from  him  to  this  effect.  His  own 
inclinations  were  toward  the  same  course,  and  Cas- 
sia's entreaties  finally  induced  him  to  decide  on  relin- 


286  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

quishing  his  roving  life.  One  more  journey,  for  the 
purpose  of  some  sales  and  settlements,  he  would  have 
to  make ;  but  it  was  to  be  the  last,  and  with  this 
assurance  he  bid  his  family  a  hopeful  "  good-bye." 

He  had  to  go  to  San  Antonio  first,  and  he  was 
walking  through  its  busiest  street,  one  morning,  full 
of  calculating  thoughts.  The  place  was  crowded  with 
rangers  and  drovers ;  with  Jews  and  Spanish-Amer- 
icans ;  with  Indians  and  Negroes ;  with  prancing 
horses  and  great  wagons  and  long  yokes  of  oxen. 
Ray  was  mentally  adding  up  the  profit  and  loss  of  an 
offer  that  had  been  made  him,  and  his  mind  was  fully 
occupied.  Suddenly  some  one  touched  him  on  the 
shoulder : 

"Captain!" 

"Leff!  is  that  you?" 

"  It's  me,  and  it  isn't  me.  I've  found  out  the  mean- 
in'  of  them  thar  questions,  cap.  I've  found  far  more 
than  the  whole  world.  I've  found  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ ;  and  O,  cap !  thar's  nothin'  to  be  taken  in  ex- 
change for  the  joy  he's  given  me." 

Ray  looked  at  him  in  astonishment.  The  man's 
countenance  was  changed.  He  had  been  a  silent, 
dull,  heavy  man,  with  a  despondent  look,  and  scarce- 
ly a  word  to  say.  His  eyes  were  now  bright,  his 
face  joyful ;  it  flushed  and  broke  into  smiles  as  he 
spoke. 


THE  SECRprr  OF  THE  PICTURE.  287 

"  I  am  very  glad,  Leff.  They  were  two  bothering 
questions ;  they  have  worried  me  a  good  deal  at 
times." 

"  You  told  me,  cap,  to  go  to  a  minister,  and  God 
sent  the  minister  to  me — down  at  Bear  Spring.  I 
went  over  thar  for  Bill  Burlage  one  night,  and  he 
was  a-preachin'  to  the  boys.  Cap,"  he  said,  dropping 
his  voice,  while  his  eyes  shone  with  tears,  "  I  heard 
that  night  about  Calvary.  I  was  all  broke  up  ;  and 
the  preacher,  he  gave  me  the  points  afterward  ;  he 
talked  with  me  and  prayed  with  me,  and  the  glory 
and  the  peace  came.  I  don't  know  how,  but  there  it 
was  in  my  heart,  and  I  went  back  happy,  and  I've 
been  happy  ever  since.  No,  sir-r  !  not  twenty  worlds 
in  exchange  for  the  love  of  Jesus  and  the  hope  of 
heaven  ! " 

This  meeting  affected  Kay  beyond  measure  ;  he 
could  not  forget  Leff's  look.  After  they  had  parted 
he  wished  he  had  detained  the  man  and  talked  more 
with  him.  But  then,  as  he  told  himself,  he  knew  all 
about  Calvary.  It  was  no  new  story  to  Ray  Briffault. 
During  the  next  few  weeks  he  was  at  once  perfectly 
miserable  about  his  sins,  and  yet  perfectly  reckless 
about  his  conduct.  He  had,  too,  spells  of  hard  drink- 
ing and  hours  of  defiance,  when,  with  the  cards  in 
his  hands,  he  strove  hard  to  put  away  from  his  con- 
science the  questions  God  had  asked  him. 


288  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BEIFFAULT. 

One  night  lie  was  on  the  St.  Leon  River  with  a 
large,  noisy  camp.  For  three  days  he  had  been  al- 
most reckless.  Temptations  to  sin  had  come  con- 
stantly, and  he  had  very  willingly  yielded  to  them. 
They  were  settled  for  the  night,  the  horses  "  side- 
lined," the  oxen  "  hoppled,"  and  the  tall,  sallow, 
fiercely-whiskered  men  stalking  up  and  down  among 
them,  or  else  standing  around  the  fires,  where  coffee 
was  boiling  and  bacon  frying.  As  they  were  sitting 
down  to  supper  a  stranger  joined  them — "  a  lone 
traveler."  He  was  a  tall,  large  man,  with  prominent 
features  and  a  solemn  thoughtful  ness  like  a  veil  over 
them.  His  clothing  was  an  ordinary  frontier  suit,  and 
he  carried  his  rifle  as  easily  and  naturally  as  if  it  was 
a  third  hand  and  arm. 

After  supper  the  camp  generally  settled  down  to 
playing  poker.  The  stranger  leaned  against  a  tree, 
and,  with  a  gloomy  face,  watched  the  game  in  which 
Ray  had  a  hand.  At  the  first  pause  Ray  said  : 

"  Join  the  game,  sir  1 " 

«  No." 

"  Perhaps  you  don't  know  it.  We  will  change  to 
suit  you." 

"  I  know  it.  I  know  every  game  that  has  ever 
been  played  between  here  and  lower  Natchez.  If  I 
wished  I  could  clean  out  this  camp,  and  let  every  man 
choose  the  game  he  plays  best." 


THE  SECRET  OF  THE  PICTURE.  289 

There  was  an  instant,  almost  an  angry,  denial,  and 
a  chorus  of  bets  against  his  statement.  Ray  said, 
politely  : 

"  Sit  down,  sir,  and  make  your  boast  good." 

"  No." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because,  ten  years  ago,  I  promised  the  Eternal  I 
would  never  touch  a  card  again.  If  a  man  makes  a 
promise  like  that,  what  would  you  think  of  him  if  he 
broke  it  ? " 

He  looked  at  Ray,  and  Ray  answered,  gravely  : 

"  Well,  sir,  there  are  circumstances  to  consider. 
He  might  not  be  able  to  keep  it.  Play  is  a  kind  of 
second  nature  to  a  man.  If  he  has  played  long  he 
can't  give  it  up.  I  know,  for  I've  tried  the  thing 
often." 

"  Yes,  he  can.  My  father  took  me  to  the  gambling 
table  when  I  was  three  years  old.  When  I  was  ten, 
he  could  match  me  against  any  rough  in  Natchez — 
and  you  know  what  a  set  they  were  more  than 
thirty  years  ago.  I  had  cleaned  out  Natchez  four 
times  before  I  was  nineteen.  In  New  Orleans  I  filled 
any  room  with  spectators  I  chose  to  play  in.  In 
Brownsville  I  once  sat  forty  hours  and  won  thirty 
thousand  dollars." 

"  Then  you  are  Mad  Blake,  or  the  devil,"  said  one 
of  the  listening  men. 


290  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

"  Yes ;  I  am  Madison  Blake.  Now  you  know  if  a 
man  can  give  up  gambling  or  not.  Put  down  your 
cards  and  listen  to  me,  and  I'll  tell  you  how  it  can  be 
done." 

His  face  was  all  aglow,  Ins  arms  stretched  upward, 
and  there,  in  the  lonely  camp,  he  preached  Christ 
crucified  ;  not  Christ,  the  great  Teacher,  the  great 
Prophet,  dying  for  us  on  the  horizon  of  some  remote 
age,  but  Christ  that  night  standing  before  the  throne 
as  a  Lamb  newly  slain,  and  making  intercession  for 
them.  The  daylight  faded,  the  moon  came  marching 
upward  to  the  zenith,  the  camp-fires  burned  red  and 
low,  but  through  the  solemn  space  rang  out  "the 
voice  of  one  crying  in  the  wilderness,  Kepent  ye :  for 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand."  When  it  ceased, 
the  cards  lay  scattered  upon  the  turf,  and  no  one  liked 
to  touch  them.  The  men  lit  their  pipes  in  silence,  and 
went  to  their  rest  or  their  duty,  and  Eaymund  Brif- 
fault  stole  away  into  the  thick  woods  at  the  back  of 
the  camp. 

Standing  bareheaded  under  the  gigantic  trees,  he 
looked  of  small  account ;  but  the  Holy  One  put  into 
his  heart  the  great  cry  of  contrition,  "  Lamb  of  God, 
have  mercy  upon  me ! "  and  the  ineffable  prayer  trav- 
ersed the  infinite  spaces  and  sank  into  the  heart  of 
God.  He  bent  to  the  sorrowful  soul ;  he  raised  it 
up ;  he  claimed  it  by  a  single  glance  of  love.  O 


THE  SECRET  or  THE  PICTURE.  291 

wonderful  communing !  O  moment  of  heavenly  as- 
surance !  What  becomes  of  all  the  arguments  of 
materialism  in  the  presence  of  a  personal  conviction 
so  invincible  that  neither  life  nor  death  can  shake  it  ? 

From  that  hour  Raymund  Briffault  was  a  changed 
man.  Old  desires  and  hopes  passed  away  from  him  ; 
he  looked  at  life  through  eyes  from  which  the  veil 
had  been  rent,  and  which,  indeed,  soon  became  im- 
penetrated with  the  light  and  peace  that  his  soul  dwelt 
in.  Before  he  reached  home  there  were  other  marked 
physical  changes  in  him.  His  gloom  and  restlessness 
were  gone,  and  the  serenity  of  his  still  handsome  face 
and  the  gentleness  and  repose  of  his  manners  was  the 
first  thing  which  struck  Cassia  on  his  return.  And 
O,  how  sweet  were  the  few  whispered  words  which,  in 
the  moment  of  their  meeting,  made  her  the  partner 
of  his  new  life  ! 

He  very  soon  remembered  madam.  He  loved  her 
dearly,  far  more  dearly  now  than  ever  before.  He 
longed  to  share  with  her  the  marvelous  peace  that  had 
come  to  him.  She  had  been  ailing  a  little,  and  was 
asleep,  Cassia  said  ;  but  in  the  afternoon,  when  told 
of  Ray's  arrival,  she  roused  herself,  and  met  him  with 
much  of  her  old  animation.  Indeed,  she  was  stand- 
ing, leaning  upon  her  ivory  staff,  watching  for  him 
when  he  entered  her  room.  She  had  shrunken  so 
much  that  her  figure  looked  almost  child-like  in  its 


THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAFLT. 

white  garments ;  but  O,  the  sorrowful  story  written 
upon  her  face  by  more  than  fourscore  years  of  mortal 
life! 

"  Eay !  At  last ! "  she  cried,  a  little  pink  flush 
suffusing  her  white  cheeks.  "  I  am  so  glad  to  see 
you,  Ray ! " 

He  put  his  arm  round  her  and  kissed  her  fondly. 

"  I  shall  not  leave  you  again,"  he  said.  "  I  have 
often  given  you  sorrow,  but  I  will  never  grieve  you 
more.  Forgive  me,  dear  !  " 

She  looked  up  at  him  in  amazement. 

"  What  is  this,  Ray  ?     What  has  happened  ? " 

And  as  he  stood  there  telling  her,  with  kindling 
eyes,  of  the  joyful  change  Christ  Jesus  had  wrought 
in  him,  she  trembled  and  grew  white  as  death.  With 
a  great  effort  she  reached  the  sofa,  and  there  she  sat 
speechless,  listening  to  his  words  and  watching  him 
keenly.  Her  first  decided  feeling  was  the  strange 
one  of  a  great  respect  for  her  grandson — a  respect 
mingled  with  a  new  confidence  in  him.  At  last  she 
could  lean  upon  his  strength  and  rely  upon  his  care 
and  judgment ;  and  she  had  the  sensation  of  one  who 
drops  a  burden  because  too  weak  and  tired  to  carry 
it  longer. 

Yery  solemnly  she  spoke  when  Ray  ceased. 

"  I  am  glad ;  glad  for  you  and  for  myself,  and  for 
all  we  both  love.  I  see  that  I  can  trust  you  now. 


THE  SECRET  OF  THE  PICTURE.  293 

Ray,  I  have  been  waiting  many  years  for  tins  hour. 
It  has  come  none  too  soon,  for  I  am  growing  very 
weak,  and  there  is  so  much  to  do." 

She  rose  and  walked  to  the  hearth-stone,  and  for  a 
moment  cast  her  eyes  up  to  the  pictured  face  above 
it.  Then  she  withdrew  a  little  slat  in  the  bottom  of 
the  frame,  and  a  silk  loop  dropped  down. 

"  Draw  it  out,"  she  said  to  Kay  ;  and  with  a  slight 
effort  a  large  leather  portfolio  was  taken  from  behind 
the  picture.  "  You  may  replace  the  slat,  Ray.  I 
shall  need  it  no  more.  I  am  going  to  trust  you  now 
with  the  secret  of  nearly  sixty  years." 

As  Ray  did  so  she  walked  back  to  her  chair  and 
sat  down,  erect  and  alert.  For  a  long  time  he  had 
not  seen  her  look  so  keen  and  purposeful. 

"Open  the  book,  Ray,  and  you  will  understand 
why  Matthew  Jarvey  visits  me  at  regular  periods." 

Ray  did  so,  and  looked  almost  stupidly  at  the  papers 
it  contained. 

"They  are  the  vouchers  for  nearly  two  hundred 
thousand  dollars,  Ray.  I  began  to  save  them  when 
your  grandfather  began  to  gamble.  In  those  days  I 
dreaded  poverty,  and  as  the  Briffaults  were  lazy  and 
self-indulgent  men,  I  gradually  got  the  management 
of  the  estate  in  my  own  hands.  Every  year  I 
put  more  or  less  away  from  it,  and,  as  I  did  not 
think  it  safe  to  have  coin  in  the  house,  I  intrusted 


294:  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIEF  AULT. 

iny  accumulations,  first  to  Matthew  Jarvey's  father, 
afterward  to  himself.  They  invested  them  well ; 
some  of  them,  as  you  will  see,  singularly  well.  I  put 
myself  in  their  hands,  and  they  have  been  ever  faith- 
ful, wise,  and  secret.  The  papers  relating  to  our  ear- 
liest transactions  I  hid  behind  my  father-in-law's  pict- 
ure ;  arid  when  the  necessity  for  any  secrecy  had 
passed  away,  I  was  so  used  to  my  '  safe,'  that  I  pre- 
ferred it  to  any  other.  When  your  father  died,  Ray, 
you  were  only  six  years  old ;  Briffault  was  at  its  best 
then ;  I  made  the  most  of  every  dollar  from  it  for 
I  was  determined  you  should  have  money  enough  to 
gild  over  the  faults  of  your  forefathers.  I  intended 
to  tell  you  every  thing  when  you  came  of  age,  but 
Jarvey  said,  *  Be  patient ;  there  is  going  to  be  a  great 
war.  Briffault  is  full  of  enthusiasms ;  he  will  waste 
it  all  on  them.'  I  was  patient ;  and  when  you  came 
home  and  married  Cassia,  I  was  more  than  ever  in- 
clined to  patience.  Never,  indeed,  until  this  hour 
have  I  felt,  Ray,  that  I  could  trust  you  with  so  large 
a  sum  of  money.  Often  your  embarrassments  troub- 
led me,  but  I  always  told  myself,  '  What  he  has  is 
sufficient  to  throw  away.' ': 

"You  were  quite  right.  I  should  only  have 
sinned  the  more,  and  wasted  the  more.  Have  you 
any  plans  for  the  use  of  so  much  money  ? " 

"  Surely  I  have.     Much  of  it  belongs  to  BrifFault. 


THE  SECRET  OF  THE  PICTURE.  295 

You  say  the  land  is  worn  out.  Bali !  There  is  land 
for  generations  unborn.  The  swamp  is  a  great 
fortune.  I  want  you  to  clear  it,  and  cultivate  it. 
Souda  knows  the  old  hands.  See  them,  and  ask 
them  to  come  home.  Make  the  cabins  clean,  com- 
fortable homes  for  them.  The  work  will  be  hard 
and  dangerous ;  tell  them  so,  and  pay  them  in  accord- 
ance. When  that  great  tangle  of  trees  is  cut  down, 
with  its  rotting  underwood  and  mildewed  grasses, 
we  shall  have  sunshine,  and  we  shall  have  no  fever. 
The  refuse  of  its  rich  vegetation  will  renew  your  old 
corn  and  cotton  land.  The  lumber  alone  will  doubly 
pay  for  the  clearing.  I  know,  for  Jarvey  says  it  is 
so ;  and  besides,  I  think  it  will  be  a  good  work,  a 
great  work,  to  make  a  noisome,  pestilential  swamp 
wave  with  corn  and  blossom  with  cotton." 

Ray  caught  the  idea  with  all  the  warmth  of 
madam's  enthusiasm  on  it. 

"  I  think  so,  too,"  he  cried,  with  animation  ;  and 
he  discussed  the  scheme  with  all  his  heart  in  it.  As 
for  madam,  her  face  kindled  as  she  talked,  and  she 
looked  almost  like  a  young  woman.  When  the 
swamp  had  been  fully  discussed,  she  turned  to  Ray, 
with  a  fresh  and  tenderer  look  on  her  face. 

"  Then  something  must  be  done  at  once  to  please 
Cassia.  I  want  Briffault  to  be  made  beautiful  for 
her.  Open  the  top  drawer  in  my  secretary,  and  you 


THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

will  find  a  large  envelope,  marked  '  Briffault.'  That 
is  it.  Now  look  at  the  design.  It  is  drawn  by  an 
excellent  architect — the  young  man  who  accompa- 
nied Jarvey  on  his  last  visit.  This  little  drawing- 
room  and  conservatory,  with  the  rooms  above,  ] 
intended  for  Mary's  own  use ;  this  wing  for  the 
boys.  Cassia  will  not  like  to  change  now,  but  there 
is  a  sitting-room  added  to  her  suite,  and  a  veranda  at 
the  west  side.  And,  Kay,  all  that  painters  and  up- 
holsterers can  do  to  make  the  home  fair  must  be 
done.  I  spoiled  the  pretty  things  you  bought  her  at 
your  marriage.  I  will  gladly  give  her,  in  atonement 
for  the  wrong,  a  hundredfold.  The  house  is  for 
Cassia.  Spend  generously  upon  it.  O,  Ray,  what  a 
good  woman  she  is!  No  dwelling-place  can  be  too 
beautiful  for  her." 

In  a  few  days  after  this  conversation  the  Briffault 
premises  were  full  of  mechanics — plasterers,  brick- 
layers, carpenters,  whitewashes,  etc. — and  the  long 
rows  of  cabins  were  put  in  comfortable  order.  They 
stood  face  to  face,  arid  were  deeply  shaded  by  a  row 
of  large  live  oaks,  from  which  hung,  in  long-un- 
trimmed  luxuriance,  waving  banners  of  gray  moss. 
Madam  sat  at  her  window,  and  watched  the  repairs 
going  on,  until  the  little  dwellings  glinted  white 
as  snow  through  their  green  awnings  of  leaves  and 
moss. 


THE  SECRET  OF  THE  PICTURE.  297 

In  the  meantime  Souda  had  communicated  with 
all  the  Briffault  servants  within  her  reach,  and  Ray 
met  them  at  her  house.  He  stood  again  upon  her 
hearth  and  watched  them  enter — middle-aged  men, 
whom  he  had  known  in  their  youth;  young  men, 
with  whom  lie  had  played  in  their  boyhood.  They 
looked  in  Ray's  face  as  children  look  in  a  face ;  and 
their  instincts  said  to  them,  "  Trust  in  him." 

He  told  them  what  he  wished  done;  he  offered 
them  the  wages  suitable.  He  said  : 

"  You  ought  to  live  near  your  work ;  your  old 
cabins  have  been  put  in  good  order ;  they  are  clean 
and  comfortable.  Bring  your  wives  and  your  chil- 
dren and  come  home.  Boys,  you'll  be  more  than 
welcome  !  Madam  wished  me  to  tell  you  so.  " 

His  pale,  handsome  face  was  flushed  with  emotion, 
his  eyes  shone  with  genuine  interest  and  regard  ; 
there  was  a  true  magnetism  about  Ray  ;  he  touched 
souls  with  every  man  there.  They  were  at  a  loss 
to  express  their  love  and  satisfaction,  but  it  was  well 
enough  shown  in  the  eagerness  with  which  the  offer 
was  accepted,  and  in  the  pleasant  anxiety  of  the 
question  : 

u  How  soon  kin  we  come  home,  Mass'  Ray  ? " 

"It  is  Thursday,  come  to-morrow,  then  you  will  be 
ready  to  attack  the  swamp  on  Monday  morning." 

So  all  the  next  day  there  was  a  constant  succession 


298  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

of  arrivals  at  Briffault — little  broken-down  wagons, 
full  of  beds  and  chairs  and  tables  and  black  babies. 
And  madam  sat  long  at  her  window  that  Friday 
night,  watching  the  gradual  lighting  up  of  a  once- 
familiar  spectacle — the  blaze  of  the  cedar-logs  from 
the  big  kitchen's  open  door  answered  by  the  same 
cheerful  light  from  all  the  open  doors  on  the  Quar- 
ters' Avenue ;  the  men  and  women  sitting  on  the 
steps,  chatting  and  laughing  together ;  the  boys  and 
girls  joining  their  hands  in  happy  rings,  and  playing 
and  singing  under  the  big  trees. 


THE  FOUND  SILVER.  299 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE  FOUND   SILVER. 

"  He  did  not  speak.     He  turned 

And  looked  upon  me.     How  that  strange  look  burned 
Its  image  on  my  soul  —  so  sad,  so  sweet, 
So  awful  !  —  there  I  sank  down  at  His  feet. 
But  he  made  answer  low  and  tenderly  — 
4  The  bitterness  of  death  behind  thee  lies, 
And  not  before.     Henceforth  shall  mysteries 
Of  heavenly  love  be  with  thee  from  the  lauds 
Of  light.     The  chamber  built  for  me  of  old 
Was  given  to  another;  but,  behold! 
This  night  I  come  —  I  come  whose  right  it  is.' 

Thus,  more  than  Conqueror, 
He  entered.     As  his  fragrant  garments  swept 
The  threshold  of  my  house,  the  inner  door 
Flew  open  for  my  Lord.     A  voice,  that  wept 
In  that  lone  chamber  of  my  heart,  was  stilled 
Forever  at  his  entrance.     Music  filled 
The  house,  and  light,  and  peace." 


VHEN  this  change  in  affairs  began  at  Briffault, 
John   was  in  New  York  looking  for   Gloria, 
who  was  yet  unfound  ;  and,  at  madam's  request,  noth- 
ing was  said  to  him  about  it. 

"  If  Gloria  ever  comes  back,  I  want  her  to  come  in 


300  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

a  mood  thankful  for  the  home  she  flung  away.  Brif- 
fault  rebuilt  and  refurnished,  and  with  a  full  treas- 
ury, might  be  a  temptation ;  and  I  will  not  buy  her 
return,"  said  madam;  and  Kay  and  Cassia  thought 
the  decision  a  wise  one. 

So  when  John  came  back  to  Texas,  about  the  end 
of  October,  he  was  very  much  astonished.  He  went 
direct  from  Galveston  to  Briffault,  for  he  was  long- 
ing to  see  Cassia  and  the  children,  as  well  as  Ray  and 
madam. 

It  was  an  exquisite  afternoon,  and  he  was  on 
horseback  riding  leisurely  along  the  familiar  bridle- 
path. On  that  side  of  the  swamp  by  which  he  en- 
tered it  nothing  had  yet  been  touched.  The  cedars 
and  the  palmas  held  there  still  their  grim  vigils. 
Yast  pecans,  cotton-woods,  sycamores,  hickory,  and 
mulberry  trees  were  tied  together  by  inextricable 
tangles  of  grape-vines.  Plums  were  bending  under 
their  sour  loads;  and  through  the  almost  impene- 
trable brushwood  slipped  the  narrow  black  bayous, 
the  homes  of  the  alligator  and  the  water  snake. 
But  when  he  got  toward  the  side  nearest  to  the 
house  a  singular  clamor  gradually  gathered  round 
him.  He  could  not  understand  it,  until  he  came 
suddenly  upon  a  clearing  and  a  group  of  nearly 
twenty  men  wielding  big  axes,  while  their  captain — 
a  gigantic  middle-aged  Ethiopian — led  them  in  the 


THE  FOUND  SILVER.  301 

improvisions   with  which  the  happy  Negro  laborer 
always  lightens  toil : 

"  '  Gwine  to  cut  down  de  tree,  gwine  to  cut  down  de  big  tree, 
Gwine  to  swing  de  ax  around  de  big  trunk  ! 

What  de  little  burd  do  den  ? 

Gwine  to  let  de  sunshine  in !     0  de  bright  sunshine  1 
Gwine  to  plant  de  cotton  seed,  and  de  corn  seed! 
Swing  de  ax,  boys  !    Swing  away  I     Swing  away,  boys! '  " 

Most  of  the  men  at  work  belonged  to  the  class- 
meeting  held  at  Souda's ;  and  they  recognized  John 
with  a  ringing  shout.  They  flung  down  their  axes 
and  gathered  round  him  with  exclamations  of  delight 
and  interrogation : 

"  Dat  you,  Mass'  John  ? " 

"  When  you  come  ? " 

"Whar  you  been?" 

"  What  you  seen  ? " 

"What  you  got?" 

"  Gwine  to  hab  class-meetiV  'gain  ? " 

"  Gwine  to  preach  next  Sunday,  Mass'  John  ? " 

"  Gwine  to  stay  at  home  now,  Mass'  John  ? " 

" Gwine  to  see  Miss  Cassia?" 

These  and  a  dozen  other  questions,  equally  child-like 
and  happy,  met  him.  Every  step  of  his  way  was 
now  a  new  astonishment ;  but  the  feeling  was  con- 

'  O 

siderably  increased  when  he  reached  the  house,  for 
he  could  scarcely  recognize  it,  amid  its  angles  and 


302  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

turrets  and  gables,  its  additional  wing,  and  its  con- 
servatory. True,  all  was  yet  in  an  unfinished  state, 
and  painters,  glaziers,  and  gardeners  were  hard  at 
work  ;  while  the  galleries  were  full  of  boxes  and 
much  household  debris. 

As  soon  as  he  entered  the  big  hall  he  heard  Cassia 
laughing  happily,  and  he  followed  her  voice  and 
found  her,  with  Ray  and  Mary,  superintending  the 
unpacking  of  the  new  furniture.  She  turned  at  his 
step  with  a  radiant  face,  and  then  Ray  turned,  and  very 
soon  every  child  on  the  place  knew  that  Uncle  John 
had  come  home.  A  wonderful  evening  followed, 
and  at  least  three  hours  of  it  were  spent  in  madam's 
room.  It  was  after  midnight  when  they  parted,  and 
yet  there  had  been  so  much  to  tell  that  every  subject 
seemed  to  be  only  half  discussed. 

But  no  change  in  Briffault  was,  in  John's  opinion,  so 
remarkable  as  the  change  in  Ray.  The  grace  of  God 
makes  the  true,  fine  gentleman.  To  Ray  it  had  imparted 
that  delicate  consideration  for  others  which  is  the  best 
politeness,  and  which  nothing  but  a  good  heart  can 
teach.  He  looked  much  younger ;  he  was  calm,  gen  tie, 
and  thoughtful  for  every  person's  comfort  and  right. 
Into  the  work  of  renovating  his  home,  and  into  the 
enterprise  of  redeeming  the  Briffault  swamp,  he  had 
entered  with  an  eager  enthusiasm.  All  day  long  he 
could  be  seen  riding  between  the  house  and  the 


THE  FOUND  SILVER.  303 

swamp ;  his  influence  was  felt  every-where,  and  the 
workmen  were  glad  of  his  oversight  and  proud  of  his 
praise. 

"  I  am  so  happy,  John,"  he  said,  "  so  happy !  I 
never  dreamed  that  life  could  be  so  worth  living." 
They  were  riding  in  the  fields  together,  and  John 
smiled  brightly  back,  and  began  to  sing, 

" '  Praise  God,  from  whom  all  blessings  flow  I '  " 

In  spite  of  his  anxiety  about  Gloria,  John  could 
not  help  taking  an  active  share  in  the  pleasant,  hope- 
ful life  at  Briffault.  A  late  youth  seemed  to  have 
come  to  Ray  and  Cassia ;  they  were  as  much  pleased 
with  their  altered  home  and  their  new  furniture  as  if 
they  were  just  going  to  housekeeping.  It  took  John 
and  Ray  and  Cassia,  and  sometimes  all  the  children, 
to  unpack  each  piece.  There  was  a  family  cabinet 
council  about  the  arrangement  of  every  room  and 
the  hanging  of  every  picture.  So  John  found  it  very 
delightful  to  be  at  Briffault,  and  when  there  he  al- 
ways took  his  afternoon  cup  of  tea  with  madam,  who 
had  now  a  sincere  liking  for  him  and  a  great  interest 
in  his  company. 

The  change  in  her  was  almost  as  great  as  that  in 
Ray,  but  it  had  been  a  far  more  gradual  one,  and 
was,  therefore,  less  remarkable.  Ever  after  that  night 
• — years  ago — when  Cassia  had  sung  to  her  "The 


304  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

Man  at  the  Gate,"  there  had  been  an  almost  imper- 
ceptible uplifting  of  her  nature.  As  she  began  to  know 
Cassia,  and  to  live  much  among  the  children,  her  soul 
entered  into  an  atmosphere  favorable  to  the  growth  of 
good  instincts,  as  sunshine  is  to  vegetation.  Then 
she  began  to  love — to  love  even  the  one  who  had 
wronged  and  betrayed  her — to  love  as  God  loves 
sinners,  while  they  are  sinners ;  and  love  of  this  un- 
selfish character  is  the  destroyer  of  all  egotisms.  It 
enters  into  the  last  asylum,  and  breaks  the  last  idol ; 
and  when  the  heart  has  been  thus  disciplined,  it  has 
been  prepared  for  an  eternal  love.  Madam  was 
nearer  to  the  kingdom  of  God  than  she  knew,  or 
even  dared  to  hope. 

As  Christmas  approached  John  became  very  un- 
easy about  Gloria.  He  had  written  frequently  to  her, 
but  had  only  received  in  return  two  little  formal 
notes,  whose  excessive  courtesy  only  half-veiled  the 
deep  offense  she  nursed.  He  was  beginning  to  think 
of  going  back  to  New  York,  beginning  to  fear  that 
he  had  made  a  mistake,  and  was  in  danger  of  sacri- 
ficing the  dear  rebellious  soul  to  his  own  pride.  But 
Cassia  begged  him  to  delay  the  journey  until  after 
Christmas.  She  was  not  fully  in  John's  confidence  ; 
indeed,  he  had  told  no  one  of  the  last  move  to  which 
Gloria's  contradictions  had  driven  him,  and  so  Cassia 
urged  her  desire  with  unusual  earnestness. 


THE  FOUND  SILVER.  305 

"Madam  is  going  to  have  a  real  old-time  Christmas, 
and  I  am  sure  every  one  will  miss  you,  John  ;  even 
the  servants  are  calculating  on  a  '  big  preachin' '  from 
you.  I  do  not  think  you  ought  to  go — unless  Gloria 
is  more  to  you  than  every  other  soul  and  every  other 
duty.  O  dear ;  I  am  sorry  I  said  that,  John.  It 
sounds  ill-natured,  but  it  isn't  heart-deep,  dear." 

"  I  know  that,  Cassia  ;  and  yon  shall  have  your  will 
this  time.  I  will  not  return  to  New  York  until  after 
the  New  Year." 

It  might  be  supposed  that  the  noise  and  confusion 
incident  to  all  these  changes  would  seriously  annoy 
and  weary  madam  ;  but  they  did  not.  She  took  an 
active  interest  in  every  thing  done  on  the  place.  On 
two  occasions,  with  Ray  and  Cassia's  help,  she  even 
went  down  stairs  to  look  at  the  newly-furnished 
rooms.  In  the  Negro  quarters  there  was  a  constant, 
hubbub  from  dawn  till  dark.  Madam  watched  them 
from  her  windows.  The  women  washed  under  the 
trees ;  they  laughed  and  chattered  and  sang  and 
quarreled  constantly.  Madam  saw  and  heard  every 
thing ;  sometimes  she  interfered  in  their  disputes ; 
sometimes  she  sent  them  a  compliment  about  their 
fine  washing,  or  an  advice  about  their  children.  There 
were  nearly  thirty  children,  and  their  high,  shrill 
voices  were  never  quiet.  Gradually  they  got  into  the 

habit  of  u  gwine  to  de  ole  madam  "  when  any  thing 
20 


306  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

wronged  or  troubled  them ;  and  their  funny  ways 
and  speeches  passed  many  an  hour  pleasantly  to  her. 
She  seemed  to  take  in  new  life  from  all  these  new 
sources ;  she  tired  herself  happily  and  thoroughly, 
and  had  long,  deep,  restful  sleeps,  which  were  of  the 
greatest  service  and  comfort. 

The  day  before  Christmas  was  to  be  a  high  day. 
Madam  was  as  excited  about  it  as  any  of  the  chil- 
dren. Every  one  on  the  place  was  to  receive  a  pres- 
ent from  her  own  hand ;  and  the  presents  were  piled 
up  ready  on  a  large  table  in  her  room,  all  neatly 
folded  and  directed.  Souda  had  been  at  Briffault  for 
three  days  helping  her ;  and  Souda's  very  presence 
made  a  kind  of  holiday  for  madam.  And  all  of 
Souda's  household  also,  even  to  old  Jane,  were  back 
at  "  the  place  "  for  the  festival,  and  the  Quarters' 
Avenue  was  like  a  Negro  fair.  But  when  the  Negro 
is  crowded  he  is  happy ;  his  cabin  can  always  hold 
"  one  more." 

It  was  a  gloriously  fine  day  ;  the  sky  blue,  the  sun- 
shine warm,  the  fig-trees  still  shady,  the  live  oaks 
green  as  ever,  here  and  there  a  rose  or  an  oleander  in 
bloom.  Early  in  the  morning  the  children  went 
shouting  off  to  the  swamp,  to  cut  mistletoe  and  ce- 
dar and  the  wonderful  scarlet  yapon  berries.  At 
noon  they  came  back  loaded  with  such  treasures  ;  and 
then  the  decoration  of  the  house  and  the  cabins  began. 


THE  FOUND  SILVER.  307 

Souda  had  persuaded  madam  to  sleep  a  little,  but 
when  the  sun  began  to  wester  low  she  brought  her 
tea,  and  spoke  to  her  about  dressing  for  the  cere- 
mony. 

"  I  wants  you  fur  to  wear  de  finest  fings  what 
you'se  got,  madam.  Some  ob  de  young  folks  hab 
neber  seen  you  dat  way,  and-Fse  kind  ob  sot  my 
heart  on  dressin'  you  like  you'se  self  fur  dem." 

The  idea  pleased  madam.  Still  shrewd  and  quick 
on  all  business  matters,  she  had  become  in  other  re- 
spects very  child-like,  and  the  thought  of  dressing 
elegantly  for  the  astonishment  and  delight  of  these 
"  new  time  "  young  people  quite  interested  her.  As 
she  drank  her  tea  she  watched  Souda  take  from  her 
wardrobe  many  rich  dresses,  but,  after  a  good  deal  of 
happy  consultation,  a  robe  of  pale,  pearl-colored  satin 
was  chosen.  All  defects  of  fit  were  hidden  by  a 
point  of  white  Lama  lace,  fastened  with  a  brooch  of 
pearls.  Madam's  snow-white  hair  was  still  plentiful, 
and  Souda  arranged  it  high,  with  a  bow  of  lace  and 
an  antique  comb  set  with  pearls.  Her  small  feet 
were  beautifully  dressed  in  satin  shoes,  her  hands 
gloved  ;  she  had  pearls  in  her  ears  and  around  her 
wrists.  Leaning  on  her  ivory  staff,  she  stood  before 
her  Psyche  glass  and  surveyed  herself ;  and  a  pale 
pink  blush  flooded  her  cheeks  and  made  her  look  al- 
most young.  Just  at  that  moment  Cassia  entered, 


308  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFATJLT. 

and  she  gazed  at  her  with  admiration,  and  took  the 
spray  of  mistletoe  and  yapon  from  her  own  hair  and 
pinned  it  on  madam's  breast,  and  kissed  her  fondly 
and  proudly. 

All  were  then  in  their  own  rooms  dressing,  or 
being  dressed,  and  for  half  an  hour  there  would  be  a 
little  lull  before  the  happy  business  of  the  night  be- 
gan. Cassia  took  a  last  look  through  her  parlors ;  a 
last  look  at  the  beautifully  arranged  dinner-table, 
spread  for  the  first  time  in  the  freshly  decorated 
dining  saloon.  How  pretty  was  the  new  china,  and 
the  new  glittering  silver,  and  the  new  bright  crystal ! 
As  she  stood  admiring  them  she  heard  the  approach 
of  a  carriage,  but  it  scarcely  gave  her  a  thought — 
carriages  and  wagons  and  buggies  had  been  coming 
and  going  all  day,  with  packages  and  messages  and 
invitations.  She  turned  slowly  and  went  to  the  door. 
A  woman  was  ascending  the  steps,  and  in  a  moment 
she  divined  who  it  was.  She  ran  eagerly  forward, 
holding  out  both  hands,  and  crying,  softly : 

"  O  Gloria  !  Gloria  ! " 

"  I  am  unhappy  and  lonely ;  I  am  miserable,  Cas- 
sia !  I  want  my  home,  and  my  own  people.  I  want 
— John.  O  can  you  all  forgive  and  love  me  ?  " 

"  We  all  love  you  dearly.  We  have  all  been  long- 
ing for  you.  What  a  joy  this  is  !  O,  darling,  how 
good  of  you  to  come  this  night !  " 


THE  FOUND  SILVER.  309 

"  Can  you  hide  me  a  little  while,  Cassia  ?  I  want 
to  rest  and  dress  myself  before  I  see  any  one." 

"In  my  own  sitting-room.  Tea  is  there  now.  I 
have  just  had  a  cup.  Come,  dear  !  " 

She  led  her  up  stairs,  and,  in  its  comfort  and  seclu- 
sion, told  her  of  the  festival  madam  was  keeping ; 
and,  upon  consideration,  it  was  thought  wisest  for 
Gloria  not  to  visit  her  until  the  excitement  of  the 
night  was  over. 

u  But  John  need  not  wait,  Gloria,"  added  Cassia ; 
"  he  is  longing  to  see  you,  I  know.  In  a  little  while 
I  shall  send  him  here.  You  will  be  ready  ? " 

11  Yes  ;  I  shall  be  ready." 

Half  an  hour  after  this  conversation  Ray  and  John 
were  standing  together  on  the  parlor  hearth-rug  be- 
fore the  blazing  fire.  The  children  were  gradually 
gathering  in  the  room  from  their  nursery,  their  white 
dresses  and  gay  sashes  making,  amid  its  festal  greens 
the  prettiest  bits  of  moving  color.  Cassia  entered 
with  a  crystal  bowl  full  of  grapes  in  her  hand.  She 
went  up  to  John  with  a  smile,  and  said  : 

"  Go,  bring  Gloria  down.  She  is  in  my  sitting- 
room,  and  it  is  time  she  was  here." 

John  thought  she  meant  his  pet  niece,  a  little  lady 
of  four  years  old,  and  the  darling  of  his  heart. 

"  Is  she  asleep  ? "  he  asked.  "  Is  it  fair  to  awaken 
her?" 


310  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

"  I  don't  think  she  is  asleep.     Go  and  see." 

His  own  Gloria  had  been  in  his  thoughts  all  day, 
but  just  at  that  moment  he  had  forgotten  her.  He 
thought  only  of  the  little  curly-headed  child  who  bore 
her  name.  When  he  pushed  aside  the  door  he  was 
met  by  the  woman  whom  most  of  all  he  longed  to 
see.  He  opened  his  arms,  and  she  hid  herself  in  that 
loving  embrace. 

"  I  arn  come,  John,"  she  whispered  ;  "  come  to  you 
forever  !  Will  you  forgive  me  ?  Will  you  love  me 
still  ?  I  never  want  to  miss  you  again.  I  have  been 
so  wretched,  John." 

O  the  sweet,  broken  words  of  contrition  and  par- 
don and  love  !  They  cannot  be  translated  into  speech. 
What  was  it  Peter  said  to  Christ  ?  What  was  it 
Christ  said  to  Peter  in  that  first  meeting  after  the  de- 
nial and  the  resurrection  ?  No  pen  has  written  it ; 
no  pen  can  write  such  emotions.  But  they  who  have 
been  forgiven,  and  they  who  have  forgiven — they 
know. 

John  lingered  so  long  that  Kay  noticed  the  delay ; 
and  Cassia  said : 

"  Do  go,  my  love,  and  see  what  is  the  matter." 

And  O,  how  bright  her  face  was,  and  what  a  loving 
smile  played  around  her  calm  lips,  and  how  she  trem- 
bled with  joy,  when  she  saw  Gloria  come  into  the 
room  leaning  upon  her  brother  and  upon  John — 


THE  FOUND  SILVEB.  311 

Ray's  eyes  full  of  happy  tears ;  John  as  proud  and 
as  glad  as  a  bridegroom. 

After  dinner  Ray  and  Cassia,  with  their  two  eldest 
children,  Mary  and  Richard,  went  up  to  madam's 
room;  but  John  stayed  with  Gloria.  Then  was 
heard  the  merry  ring  of  the  banjo,  and  the  music  of 
the  violin,  and  the  joyous  singing  of  many  voices,  as 
the  people  approached  and  massed  themselves  on  the 
steps  and  on  the  verandas.  And  one  by  one,  accord- 
ing to  their  age,  they  went  up  to  madam's  room — 
from  'Zekiel,  who  was  nearly  a  hundred  years  old,  to 
little  Afra,  who  was  a  baby  in  her  mother's  arms. 

Every  one  had  the  present  most  wished  for;  and 
to  every  one  was  given  a  small  sum  of  money.  The 
reception  lasted  nearly  three  hours,  but  madam  bore 
up  wonderfully,  and  to  most  of  the  old  servants  she 
said  a  few  kind  words,  and  gave  them  her  hand. 
Never  any  queen  had  a  more  loyal  and  loving  levee. 
Negroes  are  greatly  impressed  by  magnificent  cloth- 
ing and  fine  surroundings.  The  beautiful  old  lady, 
lying  on  the  crimson  couch,  dressed  in  pale  satin  and 
fine  lace  and  gleaming  pearls,  seemed  to  them  a 
mistress  to  be  very  proud  of.  That  night  no  one 
had  any  words  or  any  memories  but  kind  ones. 
They  had  forgotten  her  faults,  as  children  forget  the 
reproofs  of  a  parent. 

"She  wear  de  pure  satin  dress,  and  de  pure  pearls, 


312  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

arid  de  white  kid  gloves  on  her  hands ;  and  she  give 
her  hand  even  to  poor  ole  'Zekiel." 

u  Dar  aint  any  ladies  like  de  ole  madam  dese  days  ! 
Miss  Cassia,  she's  purty  well,  but  de  ole  madam. 
A7  /  Miss  Cassia  kaint  come  anigh  her !  " 

u  Madam  was  de  one  to  make  de  hands  stir  'roun' ; 
she  brought  the  dolla's  out  ob  de  groun'.  Mass 
Paul,  Mass'  Rich,  Mass'  Ray,  all  ob  dem  bow  down  to 
de  bows  on  madam's  shoes.  Mighty  clever  'ooman 
de  ole  madam." 

"  Whar  you  see  fine  ole  lady  like  Madam  Briffault 
dese  days  ?  Kaint  find  'em.  Look  at  her  snow-white 
hair,  all  a-fixed  up  wid  de  pearls,  and  her  bright  eyes, 
and  de  pink  rose  on  her  cheeks,  and  de  little  hands, 
what  you'se  most  'shamed  to  touch  wid  your  big 
black  paws !  I'se  proud  ob  de  Briffaults,  I  is  ! " 

"  Mighty  fine  ole  fambly !  Talk  ob  de  Wheelers, 
now !  Dey's  nowhar !  Oder  day  I  seen  Madam 
Wheeler  in  a  caliker  dress  a-countin'  ob  de  eggs. 
Lo'  a' mighty !  You'd  live  a  fousand  years  'fore 
you'd  see  Madam  Briffault  con'scend  herself  dat 
way." 

Fortunately  for  madam,  as  soon  as  her  last  visitor 
was  gone,  she  fell  into  the  profound  sleep  of  healthy 
weariness.  The  happy  tumult  of  the  festival,  the 
tapping  of  the  children  at  her  door,  the  running  up 
and  down,  the  songs  and  chatter  and  laughter,  dis- 


TUB  FOUND  SILVER.  313 

turbed  her  not.  With  hands  lightly  clasped  upon 
her  breast,  she  lay  in  her  satin  and  lace  and  pearls, 
and  slept,  as  sweetly  unconscious  of  them  as  if  she 
had  been  a  babe.  An  hour  of  such  deep  slumber 
quite  refreshed  her.  She  opened  her  eyes  with  a 
smile,  and  put  down  her  hand  to  Souda,  who  was 
sitting  watchfully  patient  on  the  floor  by  her  side. 

When  her  chocolate  was  made  and  her  fine  ap- 
parel removed,  she  said : 

"Now,  Souda,  you  must  go  to  the  quarters.  I 
know  the  people  will  not  be  really  happy  until  they 
get  you  among  them." 

And  as  madam  would  not  be  disobeyed  in  this 
matter,  Souda  drew  her  couch  to  the  window  over- 
looking the  cabins,  and  left  her.  But  as  she  passed 
the  parlor  she  called  Cassia  out,  and  said  : 

"  Madam  'sists  on  me  gwine  'mong  de  people  dis 
night,  Miss  Cassia,  and  I  thought  may  be  some  ob  de 
little  chillen  like  fur  to  stay  awhile  wid  her.  She's 
done  had  her  sleep  and  seems  mighty  peart-like." 

Cassia  told  her  of  Gloria's  return,  and  asked  if  she 
thought  it  safe  to  allow  her  to  visit  madam  that  night. 

"Course  its  safe.  Joy  neber  hurted  any  one,  Miss 
Cassia.  IVe  heard  say  some  folks  die  wid  it.  Dat's 
all  foolishness!  Tell  Miss  Gloria  to  go  to  da 
madam;  we'se  got  no  time  to  tarry  'bout  doin'  de 
right  fing." 


314  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

Without  doubt  Gloria  was  glad  of  the  permission. 
She  went  quickly  to  the  well-known  door  and 
knocked,  the  sharp  tap,  tap,  tap  that  had  always 
been  her  signal.  Madam  recognized  it  at  once,  and 
hope  sprang  up  in  her  heart. 

"  Who  is  that  ? "  she  asked,  eagerly. 

"  It  is  Gloria,  dear  grandma." 

"  Come  in,  my  child !  " 

And  Gloria  fell  down  at  her  side  and  kissed  her, 
and  the  words  of  her  love  and  repentance  were  min- 
gled with  the  words  of  her  welcome  and  her  forgive- 
ness. In  an  hour  Kay  and  Cassia  and  John  joined 
them,  and  they  sat  and  talked  together  until  Souda 
came  back,  "  singing  happy,"  to  put  madam  to  rest ; 
but  not  to  sleep.  Souda  lay  down  on  her  pallet 
at  madam's  feet  and  slept  heavily ;  but  madam  was 
almost  supernatural ly  awake.  Her  whole  life  was 
visibly  present  to  her ;  she  remembered  people  and 
events,  long,  long  forgotten  ;  and  hour  after  hour  she 
communed  with  her  heart  upon  her  bed  and  was 
still,  while  God  spoke  to  her.  Many  things  in  that 
solemn  night  season  he  brought  to  her  remembrance, 
until  a  great  wave  of  gratitude  swept  all  other  con- 
sciousness away,  and  she  began  to  praise  him  because 
of  his  goodness  to  Ray  and  to  Gloria,  and  to  her 
faithful  friend  and  handmaid,  Souda ;  and  even 
while  she  was  thus  praying  for  others,  her  heart 


THE  FOUND  SILVER.  315 

melted,  and,  bursting  into  a  flood  of  tears,  she 
moaned  out : 

"  Bless  me,  even  me,  O  my  Father ! " 

What  prayer  like  that  has  ever  been  unanswered 
since  the  beginning  of  time  ? 

When  she  awoke  in  the  morning  her  first  thought 
was: 

t%  O,  I  have  had  such  a  blessed  dream." 

But  the  joy  and  peace  in  her  soul  was  a  far  more 
blessed  reality.  She  lay  all  day  in  a  kind  of  raptur- 
ous trance,  too  exhausted  physically  to  answer  any 
one,  except  by  a  smile,  or  the  clasp  of  a  finger;  but 
she  was  supremely  happy.  She  heard  Ray  and  John 
come  in  and  out,  and  Gloria  talking  to  Cassia  in  a 
low  voice  about  her  life  in  New  York ;  and  at  night, 
she  heard  jubilant  snatches  of  song  from  the  kitchen, 
where  Souda  was  holding  "  a  big  prayer-meetin'," 
and  singing  her  favorite  spiritual  with  triumphant 
variations : 


"  '  De  Great  Householder  done  find  de  silver, 

Joy  among  de  angels  'way  up  in  Zion  I 
Find  de  piece  ob  silver  hidin'  in  de  corner, 
Light  de  can'le,  find  dat  piece  ob  silver,  hidin'  in  de  corner, 

Joy  among  de  angels  'way  up  in  Zion ! 

Joy  among  de  angels  1     Hallalulah  1 

Joy  among  de  angels  1     Hallalulah ! 

Joy  among  de  angels,  'way  up  in  Zion  I ' " 


316  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BKIFFAULT. 

But  far  better  and  sweeter  than  the  fervor  of  active 
joy  was  the  tranquil  bliss  in  which,  upon  the  very 
border-land  of  being,  her  soul  rested  : 

"  And  gave  thaoks  for  the  weakness  that  made  her  lie 

So  helpless  and  calm  for  awhile ; 
While  the  noise  of  the  feasting  went  gladly  by, 

And  she  heard  it,  in  dreams,  with  a  smile. 

"  0  sweet  is  the  slumber  wherewith  the  King 

Oft  causes  the  weary  to  rest; 
For  sleeping,  they  hear  the  angels  sing, 

They  lean  on  the  Master's  breast." 

They  were  a  little  fearful  for  two  days  that  the 
great  effort  she  had  made  was  to  be  her  last  one ;  but 
when  the  exhaustion  consequent  upon  so  much  emo- 
tion was  repaired  she  seemed  brighter  and  stronger 
than  she  had  been  for  some  time.  She  took  the 
greatest  interest  in  Gloria's  second  marriage.  It 
was  such  a  pleasure  to  her  that  every  trifle  con- 
nected with  it  was  purposely  discussed  in  her 
room.  Gloria  was  by  no  means  a  poor  bride ;  and  as 
she  had  brought  the  furniture  of  her  New  York 
home  to  Texas,  the  Preston  house  soon  grew  very 
beautiful  under  her  directing  taste.  And  John  drew 
diagrams  of  all  tlie  rooms,  and  described  to  madam 
how  every  thing  was  arranged. 

The  marriage  ceremony  took  place  at  Briffault,  and 
madam,  exquisitely  dressed,  stood  a  few  minutes  dur- 


THE  FOUND  SILVER.  317 

ing  it  by  the  bride's  side,  looking,  as  some  one  said, 
"  like  a  good  fairy."  There  was  no  bridal  trip  on 
this  occasion.  John  and  Gloria  went  to  their  beauti- 
ful home  with  the  bridal  bliss  in  their  hearts,  and 
the  bridal  blessings  and  good  wishes  ringing  like  joy- 
bells  in  their  ears.  It  was  in  the  early  spring, 
when  the  flowers  were  budding  and  the  trees  just 
green,  and  the  happy  birds  were  building  among  them. 
And  into  the  newly  garnished  rooms  they  carried 
marriage  hopes  undimmed  by  a  single  frown  or  care. 

Once  more  Souda  dressed  madam  in  her  beautiful 
garments — when  Gloria's  first  child  was  christened ; 
and  when  the  little  one  was  brought  home  from 
church  Souda  laid  it  in  her  arms  and  said,  proudly  : 

"Miss  tflina  Briffault !  " 

And  madam's  eyes  snone  with  love  and  joy  over 
the  pretty  baby.  Of  all  the  children  she  had  held  to 
her  heart  this  last  one  seemed  to  her  the  sweetest  and 
fairest.  She  lived  to  see  the  willful,  selfish  Gloria 
forget  herself  in  her  husband  and  children,  and  grow 
daily,  at  John's  side,  into  a  noble  Christian  woman. 
She  lived  to  see  her  greatgrandson,  Richard,  in  a  ca- 
det's uniform,  and  little  Mary  blushing  by  the  side  of 
her  lover. 

She  may  be  living  yet.  Amid  the  renewed  happi- 
ness and  prosperity  of  Briffault  it  is  such  a  pleasant 
thing  to  remember  the  beautiful  old  lady,  that  we 


318  THE  LOST  SILVER  OF  BRIFFAULT. 

would  fain  give  her,  at  least  in  our  imagination,  a 
place  in  it.  For  when  those  corner  windows  shall  be 
dark  at  night,  and  when  no  small,  frail  hand  shall 
push  aside  their  curtains  in  the  day-time,  there  will  be 
many  sad  hearts  in  Briffault,  even  though  they  have 
a  "  sure  and  certain  hope  "  that  she  has  gone 

"  To  the  upper  room  of  our  Father's  house, 
Where  the  feast  is  spread  for  the  Master's  friends, 
And  the  song  of  their  victory  never  ends." 


THK    FND. 


